Save Us
by AngelofAir
Summary: "'You think you have the right to try and /kill/ my unborn /son/? Just because you think he'll be too powerful? That's sick' Jace yelled furiously, his hands clenched into fists." The Clave is afraid a child of Jace and Clary would be too powerful. But saving their child would mean putting their friends and family in danger. How far will they go to protect those whom they love?
1. Golden Days

**This will be one of the happiest chapters you'll get. So prepare yourselves. You might want to attach your computer to your wrist from now on so you don't throw it at the wall. ;) Also keep in mind, that this chapter is basically background for the story. So, sorry if it seems clunky or fast. Or undetailed. It's not the major part of the story. Hang in there. I PROMISE THIS HAS A HAPPY ENDING. **

* * *

Jace's hands shook with nervousness as he helped Clary mount the horse they were borrowing. He'd learned to accept that she had this effect on him in the past couple of years. He recognized the fact that, around her, there was no physical control for him. There was barely any emotional control, for that matter.

They were in Idris, getting ready to ride out to a small lake that Jace used to visit when he was very small. It would have been too painful to visit, on account of Valentine tainting Jace's childhood with something dark and abusive, but Jace had discovered the little lake by himself and hadn't told his "father" about it. Whenever Valentine was away, he would simply slip away from the servants and take a little hike to his special little place under the clear blue sky, hidden among the tall, sweeping green grass. And now he was taking Clary there.

The Clave had discovered the full extent of their powers, and, as Jace had been bragging to everybody, feared them. Clary had the opposite response. She was terrified for herself and Jace. A scared Clave was a fearsome thing to behold, and a very dangerous one to be the target of.

Clary turned her green eyes on him when she was seated safely in the saddle. She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. Jace sighed and swung himself up behind her, threading his arms through her and getting a firm grip on the reigns. He felt her lean into him slightly, her posture tense, alert. "Don't worry about them," he said in a low voice. "It's not like they're going to kill us. They need us too much."

Clary shook her head. "I'm not worried about dying," she said thoughtfully. "I'm worried about losing you."

"You won't," he replied with finality, spurring the horse onward and tightening his grip on his girlfriend.

* * *

Clary slid off the horse and took in the sight around her. It was beyond words. The sky was a bright, clear blue, the lake sparkling under it like a small, grey-blue gem. Tall willows and pines swayed in the gentle breeze, the same breeze that rippled the green grass beneath her feet. In the distance, she could see jagged, snow-topped mountains, and her fingers itched for her sketchpad and colored pencils.

As if sensing her thoughts, Jace, who had spread out a thick white blanket out on the grass, produced her art supplies from the picnic basket, grinning. She gave him the first genuine smile she'd smiled in three days, running over to the blanket and throwing her arms around him. "Thank you," she whispered in his ear, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

* * *

Jace watched Clary sketch for a while, his thumb distractedly rubbing the velvet box hidden in the pocket of his leather jacket. Normally, he was good with words, but he knew if he tried something charming or cheesy on Clary, she'd probably turn around and punch him for it. Rubbing his sweaty palms off on his jeans, he scooted closer to her and wrapped his arms around her, leaning his head on her shoulder. She froze and turned her head to look at him, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "You know, Isabelle told me that I have you attached to my hip…but I don't think she meant _literally_." She marked the tip of his nose with the bright green oil pastel she was holding in her hand.

He wrinkled his nose and let go of her, standing up and holding his hand out. "Come on," he said, willing his hand to stop shaking.

She frowned a little, glancing wistfully at her drawing. "But I—"

Her words ended in a little yelp as Jace pulled her up and brushed the oil pastels out of her hands. If he didn't do this now, he didn't think he'd ever manage it. Not without some serious intervention.

"Where are we going?" she asked, tripping over a hillock in the grass.

Jace smirked. "You'll see."

* * *

She saw. Jace had led her to the top of a hill overlooking a valley of purple flowers, the mountains coming into sharper focus, providing a startling backdrop for the field. Jace pulled her into the flowers, running through them and laughing like a maniac until they were standing in the middle of them, holding hands and grinning, breathless. Clary, still giggling a little, put a hand to Jace's forehead. "Are you feeling all right?"

He looked a little pale, but he managed to give her a shaky smile. "I'm fine. Don't worry about it."

* * *

Jace hoped he wasn't gripping her hand too hard. He looked at her from the corner of his eye. Her focus was utterly and completely on the beauty before her. He found himself wishing, as he had so many times, that he could crawl inside her head, crawl inside her thoughts and her world. Know what she was thinking.

He caught her other hand and turned her towards him, looking into those expectant green eyes seriously. All the laughter disappeared from her face. "Jace…Are you _sure _you're okay?"

* * *

Clary searched his face for any sign of sickness or anxiety. He'd been doing well since Jonathan had died. She couldn't think of anything that might be bothering him, except for what was going on with the Clave. But he'd been the one to reassure her and calm her down, hadn't he?

His luminous gold eyes were fixed on hers, determination pouring into her own gaze. "I need to tell you something."

Her heart skipped a beat. Nothing good ever followed when those words came out of his mouth. "Yeah?"

He took a deep breath, glancing at the mountains, as if for reassurance, and then looked back at her. "I've told you countless times about how much I love you, and God knows, I'll probably tell you more times than you can bear to hear. Which is what I'm about to do right now, so don't punch me until I'm done with my little speech." He paused, Clary watching him wordlessly, her mouth hanging open a little.

"I know now that you would do anything for me. You know I would do anything for you. I'd jump into the depths of Hell, if it made you happy. I love you more than I've ever loved anything or anyone in the world." He laughed a little. "You have me completely wrapped around your finger, and the funniest part is, you don't even know it."

Clary made to protest, but he kissed her quickly to quiet her.

"You can't interrupt me. See, I've never been this nervous before in my life, and if you interrupt me, I'll lose it." He took a deep breath. "The point is, Clary, that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to fall asleep with you in my arms every night, and wake up with my face buried in your hair every morning. I want to protect you from any demon, any nightmare, any Downworlder, hell, any Shadowhunter, who tries to harm you in any way. I want to hold onto you and never ever, ever let you go."

Clary watched in astonishment as he knelt before her, her hand still gripped tightly in his, his knuckles turning white. He pulled a black velvet box out of his pocket and opened it to reveal a beautiful, white gold ring, with a large diamond in the middle, offset by green emeralds and blue sapphires. "Clarissa Adele Fray," he breathed. "Will you marry me?"

* * *

Jace's heart pounded ruthlessly in his ears, slamming against his chest.

_She's going to say no._

_I knew I should have waited until she was twenty. What an idiot I am. Who's ready to be married at 18?_

_I'm going to be rejected._

_I should have waited._

* * *

A bubble of hysteria, excitement and joy welled up in Clary's chest. At first, she could only stare at him, unable to speak. He looked so perfect. His golden hair a halo on his head, the beauty around him enhancing his looks. Except for his paleness. He was so pale at the moment. He cleared his throat, snapping Clary back to reality.

"An answer would be fantastic right now," he said, his voice hitching a little.

She blinked and then began to nod vigorously, still at a loss of what to say. She saw the color flood his face, however, the paleness dissipating as rapidly as it had appeared.

"Is that a yes?"

Clary choked. "Of _course _it's a yes!" she cried. "Why _wouldn't _it be a yes?"

* * *

Jace grinned, a wave of relief passing over him like the sun. Clary gave him her hand, and he slipped the ring onto her finger, letting it sparkle in the sunlight for a moment. She flung her arms around him and held onto him tightly, tipping them over into the flowers. His lips met hers, and they kissed sweetly, the Clave forgotten. They didn't fall over and make out. They just kissed until they both had to come up for air. They sat in the flowers, breathing heavily and grinning at each other.

Jace chuckled, pulling a purple flower out of her hair. "Do you know what kind of flower this is?" he asked.

Clary looked at one of the flowers. It kind of reminded her of lilacs, but some were white and the others were all purple. She shrugged. "No idea."

He leaned over, plucking a stem from the ground and winding it into her hair, behind her ear. "It's clary sage," he whispered.

* * *

Jace threaded his fingers through Clary's hand, squeezing it reassuringly...although he wasn't so sure himself.

Jocelyn had invited him over for dinner after their picnic, and it seemed as good a time as any to break the engagement news. Clary grit her teeth. "My mom's going to kill me." She glanced at him, suppressing a smile. "She'll probably try to castrate you."

Jace looked appalled. "No way in hell would I let her do that! My genitals are my precious-"

"Clary!" Jocelyn exclaimed, rushing forward to hug her daughter, whose hand was pulled out of Jace's. "My goodness, I haven't seen you since we got here."

Clary smiled at her mom as they broke away, shoving her left hand into her pocket. "I know," she said calmly. "Things have been a little crazy."

Luke walked into the room and smiled at his step-daughter. "Hey, Clary," he said, giving her a quick hug. "Sorry we couldn't let you stay here. It's so far away from the city-"

Clary waved her hand dismissively. "It's not a big deal. I'm fine staying with the Lightwoods. I sleep with Isabelle, so...don't worry about that." She glanced back to see Jace smirking at her.

"Hello, Jace," Luke said, his smile genuine. They clapped each other on the back before Jace linked hands with Clary again.

"Yes, hello, Jace," Jocelyn said, giving him a quick hug.

Jace put on his 'angel face' and smiled warmly at both of them. "Good evening," he said politely. "Thanks for inviting me over for dinner."

* * *

Jace glanced at Clary, who was picking at her food. He supposed that since he was the one who'd asked her to marry him, he should probably break the news. He reached up and squeezed Clary's elbow, catching her attention. She'd been keeping her left hand under the table all night, and Luke seemed to have noticed, because he kept casting Jace smug glances.

Jace cleared his throat, interrupting Jocelyn's story of how the Clave has decided to hide some of its valuables in her paintings. "Clary and I have something to tell you."

Jocelyn paled. "Clary...you're not pregnant are you?"

Clary looked shocked. "No!"

"Because if you are, I swear, I'll-"

"MOM. Jace and I haven't even-I mean, we haven't...you know." She blushed furiously.

Jace interrupted before Jocelyn could say anything, casting a glance at Luke, who was watching the whole thing with a glint of amusement in his eyes. "I asked Clary to marry me...and she said yes."

There was a shocked silence, and color flooded Clary's cheeks. Jocelyn was staring at them wide-eyed, and Luke looked like he wanted to laugh. Clary took her hand out from under the table and showed them the ring. "I did."

* * *

Clary clutched her bouquet nervously, watching Isabelle run around like an idiot, trying to calm herself down.

"No, no, _NO!_" Isabelle descended upon some poor flower-arranger like a harpy. "The pattern is midnight flower, golden rose, midnight flower, golden rose! How _hard _is it to understand?!"

Clary laughed at her friend. Isabelle seemed more stressed about everything running smoothly than she was. Clary just wanted the ceremony to be over. Jocelyn had been walking around with puffy red eyes all day, glaring at Jace, and claiming she had allergies.

At that moment, Jocelyn herself walked in. She smiled when she saw Clary. "You look absolutely beautiful, honey."

"Thanks," Clary said, reaching over to hug her mom.

"I guess I was wrong," Jocelyn whispered into Clary's ear. "I'm not happy that you're getting married at eighteen...But at least you're getting married to Jace."

Clary looked at her mother in surprise. "You mean you don't hate him?"

Jocelyn laughed. "Yes and no. I don't hate him as a person. I hate him for taking my little girl away from me...but, that was inevitable." She gave Clary a quick peck on the cheek before taking her place in the procession.

* * *

Jace gripped Clary's small hands tightly, trying to peer through her veil. Their wedding was an odd one, but beautiful nonetheless. They'd combined a traditional Shadowhunter wedding with a traditional mundane wedding, since that was all Clary ever knew growing up.

They'd be exchanging rings _and _runes.

"Do you, Jonathan Christopher Herondale, take Clarissa Adele Morgenstern to be your lawfully wedded wife, in sickness and in health, till death do you part? To love and to cherish, to protect and _respect_for the rest of your lives?"

Jace nodded. "I do."

Clary blinked furiously.

"And do you, Clarissa Adele Morgenstern, take Jonathan Christopher Herondale to be your lawfully wedded husband, in sickness and in health, till death do you part? To love and to cherish, to respect and _obey _to _some _degree for the rest of your lives?"

Clary laughed a little. "I do," she said, surprised at how steady her voice sounded.

They exchanged rings and runes, the scent of freshly applied Marks filling the Hall of Accords.

"You may now kiss the bride!"

With that, Jace pulled Clary's veil back and kissed her more passionately than either of them thought was possible. There was a resounding cheer from the audience, and a loud "_FINALLY!_" from Isabelle.

* * *

**_TWO YEARS_ _LATER_**

"Clary...are you okay?"

Clary bolted out of the kitchen where she and Jace had been making breakfast together and emptied the contents of her stomach into the porcelain toilet bowl of their downstairs bathroom. Jace pushed the door open gently and crouched next to her, pulling her hair back. He rubbed her back soothingly, letting her finish.

When she was done, he gave her a cup of water and a toothbrush, helping her clean up before pulling her back into his arms and leaning them both against the bathroom wall, stroking her hair. "Stomach flu, maybe?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I don't know," she croaked.

* * *

Clary stared in shock at the little pink plus sign on the white plastic stick she was holding. There was a human being _growing _inside of her. She suddenly felt like she should wrap a bullet proof vest around her abdomen, to protect what was in her stomach.

What would Jace say?

Jace was away with Alec on some business with the Clave, leaving Clary alone at their house in Idris. She glanced at her phone. _Isabelle. _

She dialed her friend's number. Isabelle was still living in New York to be near Simon, but...maybe they could both help her. Isabelle picked up on the third ring.

_"Hello?"_

"Hey, Iz. It's Clary."

_"Hi! What's up? You sound like you just got run over by a dump truck. No offense."_

"Izzy, I...I'm...I'm pregnant," Clary managed to get out.

"_You're WHAT?! Does Jace know?! When the hell did this happen?!"_

"Isabelle!" Clary shouted into the phone, feeling queasy again. "I'm pregnant. Jace doesn't know. And um...four weeks ago?"

"_Why the hell does Jace not know?"_

"He's not here," Clary croaked. "He's away on business for the week. And I don't know how to tell him."

There was a pause. _"Me and Simon will be over there before the day is over."_

* * *

_**AT THE END OF THE WEEK**_

The door to the house fell shut, alerting Clary to her husband's arrival. She smirked into the pasta she was making, waiting for his reaction to-

"_Simon_? What the hell are you doing in my house? Is Clary okay? Has something happened to her?" Jace's voice got more and more panicked.

Isabelle rolled her eyes. "Clary and I are in the kitchen, Jace, calm down!"

Clary smiled as Jace came into the kitchen, wearing a suit and tie. She always thought he looked funny (and hot) in a suit. Like he was all grown up.

Who was she kidding? They _were _all grown up. It was a feeling she didn't think she'd ever get used to.

"Isabelle, it's nice to see you, but why are you and Simon in my house?" Jace asked, pulling Clary away from the stove and crushing her in his arms.

"I needed company," Clary said quickly, before Simon or Isabelle could reply. "So I called them."

* * *

Isabelle pulled Clary into the kitchen after dinner, away from Simon and Jace, who were arguing about what girls were attracted to more: Black hair or Blond hair.

"If you don't tell him right now," she hissed. "I will."

Clary pulled her arm out of Isabelle's grip. "Okay, okay. I'll tell him." She leaned out into the dining room. "Jace? Can I talk to you for a moment?"

Isabelle passed Jace as she walked out of the kitchen, giving him a smirk and a thumbs up. He glanced at her confusedly before entering the kitchen. "Why did she just smirk at me?"

Clary rolled her eyes. "Because she knows what I'm about to tell you."

He raised his eyebrows. "And that would be?"

She beckoned him closer and took his hands in hers. "Now...don't freak out, okay?"

A loud snort came from the dining room. "SHUT UP!" Clary yelled over Jace's shoulder.

"Why would I freak out?" he asked her gently, although she could hear the edge on his voice. "Should I be worried?"

She smiled at that. "Only that I might have found someone even more attractive than you." As soon as she said it, she realized how it sounded. Jace paled a little.

"What?"

Clary clapped a hand to her forehead. "That's not what I meant. God, this isn't romantic at all. This is not how I envisioned this."

Jace gripped her hands a little tighter. "What are you _talking _about?"

She looked into his eyes. Those golden, luminous eyes that held a guarded, wary expression, as if they thought she was about to shatter them into pieces. She felt guilty. She'd made him think she was cheating on him. Which she'd never do in a thousand years. "I'm pregnant, Jace. With your baby. You're going to be a father," she said quietly.

Jace could only stare at her in shock. For once, he seemed at a loss for words. "You're...you're...what? Huh?"

Isabelle barged into the kitchen at that moment. "She's pregnant, Jace! God, is it that hard to understand? You knocked her up!"

With a whoop of joy, he swept Clary into his arms and spun her around, laughing. "You're going to have a baby! We're going to have a baby!"

Clary yelped in surprise. "So you're not mad?"

Jace set her down and looked at her incredulously. "_Mad? _You thought I'd be _mad?"_

"Apprehensive?" she asked, shrugging.

Jace just laughed and pulled Clary into him, holding her tightly. "Clary. It takes two to make a baby. I could never be mad at you for that." He pulled back a little and turned her chin up to face him. "I will love that baby just as much as I love you. That baby is going to be the victim of so much love, he won't know what to do with himself."

Clary scowled. "He? How do you know it's not a girl?"

Jace smirked. "I know, trust me. It's a boy."

"I'm going to laugh when it's not."


	2. The Rose's Thorn

**Hello, Shadowhunters! Alright, a couple of notes! In this chapter, beware of some language. There's only a couple of words, and under the circumstances, I'd say they're excusable. ;) A reader has brought to my attention that Jace would call himself Jace Lightwood, not Herondale. I completely understand that. Calling him a Herondale is a personal thing for me. I have a deep emotional attachment to his ancestor, William Herondale, so it hurts to think that Jace might end the Herondale bloodline by calling himself a Lightwood. Secondly, I WANT you guys to tell me if the characters are OOC, okay? Okay. Hold onto your hats and hearts, ladies and gentlemen. The path begins to get rocky.**

* * *

Consul Horace Nightwine sat in his office, rubbing his temples with exhaustion and frustration. It had been an unbearably long day. The Inquisitor had demanded that he call every Shadowhunter living in Idris to Alicante for a week, so the Clave could continue investigating the recent string of warlock deaths in Africa. All sorts of men and women came, dressed in the old-fashioned styles of the Clave. Alec Lightwood was there, with his ruffled, black hair and his bright blue eyes. Aline Penhallow had been there, reminding Horace of the time he'd had a crush on her mother, Jia. Jace Herondale had been there, with his judgmental golden eyes and his elitist attitude. The Consul couldn't stand that boy.

First, there'd been his father. His _biological _father. Stephen Herondale. The man was just as much of an arrogant asshole as his son was, despite the fact that he had everyone convinced that he was the sweetest, kindest thing God had ever put on this earth. But Horace had known better. Horace had seen the way Stephen watched everyone around him—as if they were the dust beneath his feet. Horace had seen the way Stephen beckoned those whom he chose tolerate to him, to obey his every command. Horace had thought that no one could command Stephen Herondale. No one could tell Stephen Herondale what to do. He'd hated the angelic golden-boy for it. He'd hated him even more when Stephen decided to "accidentally" push him into the fountain during a dance the Clave had thrown for its newest Shadowhunters, smirking the whole damn time.

And then came Valentine Morgenstern, the only man who seemed to have any control over Stephen…and Horace adored him for it. Horace had heard about the Circle at school, and had immediately gone to Valentine to sign up. But Valentine had refused, with all his charm and pleasantness. When the word spread that Stephen and Valentine were both dead, along with the majority of the Circle, Horace had felt a wave of pure relief wash over him.

It was ten years later that Jace Wayland popped up, and Horace had been in charge of transporting the orphaned child to the care of the Lightwoods. When Jace had arrived in his office, his gold hair perfectly trimmed, his leonine eyes watching him like a curious, predatory hawk, Horace felt a spring of foreboding open up in his chest. The boy reminded him of Stephen—of all the times he'd been made fun of, pushed around. He was glad when Jace was safely inside the New York Institute and Horace could return to Idris. When it was discovered, almost a second decade later, that Jace was the son of Valentine Morgenstern, he'd thought that was the reason for his sense of fear upon seeing the boy. Jace certainly had the charm, the wit, the grace that Valentine had. It was only when Brother Zachariah confirmed that Jace was, indeed, a Herondale, the son of Stephen and Celine, that Horace developed a true hatred for him.

And Jace hated him in return. Like father, like son.

A sharp knock interrupted his thoughts. "Come in," the Consul said gruffly.

Inquisitor Michael Ravenscar rushed in, clutching a manila envelope and looking furious. "They've done it, Horace," he spat. "Those two angel brats have finally done it."

Horace glanced at the envelope tiredly. "What?"

"Jace and Clary Herondale," Michael breathed, slamming the folder down on the desk. "Clary's pregnant."

Horace was instantly alert. "What?" He stood up. "I thought I told you to tell Herondale that they were not allowed to have any children!"

"I did," the Inquisitor said. "Apparently she was already pregnant, before he got home and told her."

Horace shook his head grimly. "She'll have to have an abortion. We can't afford another super-Shadowhunter running around. Not if it adopts the attitudes and beliefs of its parents, which it most certainly will."

Michael frowned. "An abortion? Don't you think that's a little…extreme?"

Horace looked his friend in the eye. "Michael…don't fight me on this. Send a doctor to their house immediately to carry out the procedure."

"Everyone likes the Herondales, Horace," he said, leaning on the desk. "It won't get done."

The Consul grit his teeth. "So go with the doctor, and make sure the job is done _well_. If you don't come back with proof that that baby is no longer in existence, I will tell the entire Council of your part in the Mortal War."

* * *

"Well, Alec," the doctor, Amelia, said, removing her mask and handing him his still-warm, knit sweater. "That wound is healing perfectly." She beamed. "Two more visits, and I think you should be good."

"Do I need to keep it bandaged up?" he asked, his blue eyes searching her expression.

Amelia shook her head. "Not if you don't want to. It's a large scab now, starting to scar over. Although," she added thoughtfully, her brown ponytail swinging as she tipped her head to the side a little. "I wouldn't do anything too…_strenuous_, if you know what I mean." She winked. "Not unless you want the stitches ripping apart and blood spilling down your stomach again."

_Not like Magnus would care,_ Alec thought fondly. _A little blood wouldn't stop him. Not if it wasn't anything to worry about. _

He thanked her, sliding off the examining table and pulling his soft sweater over his head, inhaling its wooden scent—sandalwood detergent. It was something Magnus kept stockpiled in the basement of their home in Idris. Ragnor Fell's old home. He and Alec moved there shortly after Sebastian had been defeated, very alone and very happy.

He exited the room and shuffled down the hallway, his shoulders hunched up around his ears, hands in his pockets. It was three in the afternoon, the warm sunlight outside spilling in through the glass windows of the passageway and bathing Alec in its glow. It was a four hour ride by horseback if he wanted to go home. Did he really want to get home at dark?

Jace's house was only three hours away. Still secluded, still in the country, still a ways away, but considerably closer. Besides, he still needed to see Clary and congratulate her on the pregnancy. Alec had just made up his mind to ride to Jace's when he realized he'd forgotten his keychain on the examining table in the doctor's office. Running back through the glass doors and into the elevator, he hoped desperately that Amelia wasn't gone already. She'd told him that he was her last patient of the day, and he needed that keychain to get into Jace's house. He and Clary rarely answered the door.

Reaching the office, he was relieved to see fluorescent light seeping through the cracks in the door. He was about to enter the room when he heard his brother's name spoken.

"—_and Jace, Amelia."_

Alec pressed his ear to the door, recognizing the Inquisitor's voice.

The doctor cleared her throat nervously. _"I can't just go in there and demand to kill their child, Michael."_

"_You will. If you don't, I'll be revealed to the Clave, and you'll be thrown in prison, stripped of your Marks and killed."_

A gasp. A pause. _"But…I don't…"_

"_Tomorrow, Amelia. If you are not at the fountain in the Hall of Accords at six am tomorrow, ready with your equipment, and ready to ride, you will wake up in prison."_

His heart slamming against his chest, Alec sped down the hall, and out of the hospital, his keys forgotten.

* * *

Jace was walking back to the living room with a cup of coffee for Clary when Alec began to pound against the door. Swearing under his breath, Jace opened it. "By the Angel, Alec, what happened to the key I gave you?"

Alec stumbled into the house, red-faced and breathless. "Hospital…rode all the way here…no time…"

Jace wrinkled his nose. "You smell."

His brother looked at him somewhat incredulously. "Only…you…would say something like that. Most people…would ask…'How…did you get here…so fast?'"

"I don't really care about that part. You're stinking up my entryway and getting mud all over my carpet." Jace shook his blond head somberly. "Whatever would our mother think?"

Alec, who had gotten his breath back, scowled and slipped his feet out of his boots, hooking them on his fingers. "Where would you like me to put them, Your Highness?"

Jace looked pleased at being called 'Your Highness,' and a smirk played on his lips. "Just set them outside the door. On the _cement_," he added, watching his _parabatai_ carefully.

Alec rolled his eyes and locked the door behind him. "I need to talk to you," he said in a low voice, glancing down the hallway.

"About what?" Jace asked. "You know, you're the only one who hasn't called, or written, or visited to tell Clary congratulations."

"I know, I—"

"You should probably do that."

"I—"

"Save me from the crazy mood swings she's having."

"Will you let me—"

"She keeps staring out the window, muttering to me about how she thinks you've gone back to hating her, and you've convinced Magnus to hate her too. She thinks you think she's '_unbearably annoying_.'"

Alec didn't say anything for a moment, waiting to see if Jace would interrupt him again. "You live almost six hours away from us. It's not like we just wake up one morning and say 'Oh, let's go visit Jace and Clary for a few minutes to tell them how happy we are that they've managed to create what's sure to be an impish combination of the both of them.'"

Jace feigned insult. "Impish? How dare you insult my innocent, defenseless son!"

Alec raised an eyebrow. "Son? You know what the gender is already?"

"Not technically," his friend said with a devious smirk. "But I can feel it. I'm going to secretly name him Jace 2.0 when Clary's not looking."

"No, you're not!" came a voice. Clary's voice.

Jace swore under his breath. "I swear, that woman can hear _everything_."

Alec laughed softly and pushed past Jace, walking down the hall and into the living room. "Hey, Clary," he said, bending down to give her a hug.

She'd cocooned herself in a myriad of different blankets on the couch, her sketchpad lain across her lap and Prismacolor colored pencils scattered everywhere—on the couch, in the folds of her blankets, on the floor. She wrapped her strong arms around his neck, hugging him back and smiled up at him. "Hey."

Jace, who had padded into the room behind Alec, handed Clary the cup he'd been holding. "Here you go, _wife._"

Clary made a face. "Don't call me that," she said. "It sounds weird."

Alec agreed. He sat on the L-shaped black leather couch on the opposite end of where Jace and Clary now sat, conversing in low tones about something. Alec cleared his throat awkwardly. "Congratulations, Clary," he said when he had her attention. "You think it'll be a girl or a boy?"

She smiled, glancing at Jace and then looking back at him. "_I _think it will be a girl."

Alec laughed at Jace's expression. "So do I," he confessed. "In fact, I hope to God it will be a girl. So I can laugh at Jace when it's _not _a boy."

Jace shook his head. "It'll be pretty strange to have a girl running around named Jace 2.0, then, won't it?"

"You are not naming any child of mine 'Jace 2.0,'" Clary murmured, scowling.

"We'll see," Jace said with a smirk. He looked at Alec. "Didn't you say you needed to talk to me about something?"

Alec stood up, sliding his hands into his pockets. "I do. Alone," he added, seeing Clary's expression.

Jace leaned over and whispered something in Clary's ear before standing up and beckoning Alec back into the hallway and up the stairs.

* * *

Once they were shut away in the master bedroom, Jace turned to Alec, turning on a lamp that flooded the room with a rich, yellow light. "What?"

Alec squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them, remembering what he'd heard at the hospital. "You need to get Clary out of here. Tonight."

Jace looked apprehensive, put on guard suddenly. "Why? What's going on?" he probed.

Alec took a deep breath. "I went to the hospital today, you know, to have this checked out," he said, pointing at his collarbone. "I was on my way over here when I realized I'd forgotten my keychain in the doctor's office, so I went back inside and was about to open the door when I heard your name."

The corner of Jace's lips twitched up in slight amusement. "People _still _haven't gotten over the fact that I killed Sebastian and saved the entire world, all while looking _amazingly _sexy the entire time."

"This isn't funny, Jace," Alec snapped. "If you and Clary don't leave tonight, I'll kidnap her and hide her myself."

The smirk fell from Jace's face. "Continue," was all he said.

"_Anyway_," he said. "I heard your name, so I started eavesdropping. Jace…" Alec swallowed. "They're sending a doctor here- to the house, in the morning- to abort the baby."

Jace paled, his body freezing in place. "What?" he asked. "Are you sure? How do you know?"

"I heard the whole thing. The Inquisitor was talking to my doctor. She didn't want to do it, but he said that if she didn't, she'd be stripped of her Marks and killed. She's to meet the Inquisitor in the Hall of Accords at six am tomorrow. They're traveling here together to carry out the procedure. _At your house."_

By this time, all the color had drained from Jace's face, leaving it a grayish-yellow color in the lamplight. He closed his eyes momentarily, and then opened them, focusing immediately on Alec. "Where do you propose we go?" he asked.

Alec hadn't thought about that part. Only that they needed to leave. He briefly thought of the basement in his and Magnus's house. "My house," he said quickly. "Come hide at my house. Magnus has enchanted the basement so no one can get into it if he doesn't want them to. You'll be safe there."

Jace rose from the bed and pulled a suitcase out from the closet. "We can try to hide," he said, sounding resigned. He pulled the dresser drawers open and began meticulously arranging his and Clary's clothes in the open bag. "I don't know how long we'll be able to evade them, though, Alec."

Alec backed up toward the door. "I know," he said. "But we can try. At least until we figure out how to get out of this… I'll go get Clary."

With that, he disappeared, leaving Jace to finish packing.

* * *

Jace ran his hands through his hair, frustrated. He should have _known._ The Inquisitor had approached him at the meetings in Idris with a threat. It rang through Jace's mind now, taunting him.

"_The Clave has forbidden you and your wife from having children. Valentine shouldn't have done what he did, and now you must suffer the consequences. If you choose to disobey the Law, you _will _be stripped of your Marks and thrown in prison for an indefinite amount of time."_

_Jace screwed his mouth up to one side. "I don't see how this has anything to do with the Law. It sounds like a load of bull shit to me."_

_The Inquisitor seemed to ignore his comment. "That means that your child will be born in prison. No children, Herondale. Or your entire family shall suffer the consequences."_

Of course, Jace hadn't known Clary was pregnant at the time, and he didn't have the heart to tell her when he'd gotten home. He'd figured that if the Clave got pissed at them, they had one argument on their side: They hadn't known they weren't allowed to have children until Clary was already pregnant.

He yanked up on the handle of the suitcase, dragging it out of the room and down the stairs to find Clary frantically cleaning up her art supplies, her freckles standing out on her pale skin. Her face was set into a mask of determination, but Jace could see the fear lurking behind her carefully arranged features, her skin carrying the same grayish tint his own had. She was so thin he worried about her sometimes. He worried about how well she would do with childbirth. She already had the tiniest little bump on her stomach, invisible to everyone but her and Jace—you could only see it if she was wearing nothing but underwear. But she was strong, Jace reminded himself. She was constantly surprising him with her strength. She had the appearance of a porcelain doll (if a very stubborn one), but the durability and toughness of an ox.

Clary looked up and noticed him standing there, watching her. Her lip quivered a little, betraying her hidden emotions even further. He hurried over to her and wrapped his arms around her tightly. "It's okay," he said softly, stroking her hair. "It's going to be fine, Clary. We're going to be fine."

She nodded into his shirt. "I know."

* * *

Alec was waiting for them outside, the reigns of two horses in his hands. "You two are going to have to share," he said, throwing the reigns of the charcoal colored horse to Jace, who caught them and wrapped them around his wrist.

"Can you take the suitcase?" Jace asked, handing Alec the black, rectangular object.

Alec nodded and found straps that hooked the bag onto his back easily. He swung himself up onto the horse and peered through the twilight. "You guys will have to follow me. Carefully. We're going through Brocelind Forest."

Jace slid into the saddle of his and Clary's horse before helping Clary climb on behind him, making sure she was wrapped tightly in her mother's quilt. She threaded her arms through his and clenched his shirt tightly. He could feel her take a deep, shaky breath, her heart slamming against his back. "Lead the way."

* * *

**P.S. THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH FOR THE REVIEWS AND THE FOLLOWS. You guys have left me speechless. 25 follows for ONE chapter! That's…astounding. Keep it up, dearies! If you have ANY suggestions, good or bad, leave them in a review or PM me!**


	3. Close Call

**Good afternoon, Shadowhunters! Thank you so much for the reviews and the FOLLOWS. My goodness…I don't know if I can handle them all. Of course I can, who am I kidding? Keep them coming! Shout out goes to omnom33 for the best review of the week: **_**WOW, this is AMAZING! i can't wait till the baby is born (you better let them get that far, or you will probably have a mob outside your house let by your's truely) and the clave shits themself in one way or te other. ANYWAYS, i just wanted to say tht i am ridiculously pumped for the next chapter!**_

**Bricks will be crapped in the Clave…no worries ;) Anyway. Have you found the wire that you are going to use to tie your computer/phone to your body? If not…find some soon ;) Oh yeah. And I feel like Jace is really OOC in this chapter…so beware. Also, a warning! THIS CHAPTER IS RATED M FOR VIOLENCE AND MATURE CONTENT. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. BUT THIS CHAPTER IS RATED M FOR A GOOD REASON SO PLEASE KEEP THAT IN MIND.**

* * *

"_Clarissa…"_

_Clary whirled at the sound of the hissing voice, her heart pounding in her ears, her hands shaking in nervousness and anticipation. _

_The voice, dark and lifeless, chuckled. The sound sent a chill up her spine. "Clarissa…did you honestly think you could escape the consequences of your decisions?"_

_She peered through the darkness and saw a tall, shadowy figure walking towards her. As it emerged into the moonlight, she gasped. "Valentine," she said, hatred setting every single one of her nerves on fire. She gripped her stele._

_Valentine laughed again. "Do you think I led you and Jace to believe that you were siblings for no reason?" He shook his head, as if disappointed. "And now look what you've done. You've put an innocent life in danger. You've put your own child in danger."_

_Clary bit her lip until it bled. "You know nothing," she said savagely. "You were an awful parent. Jace has told me stories. I've seen Sebastian's back, you know. I've—"_

"_What about my back, dear sister?" _

_Clary caught her breath as her brother appeared next to Valentine, smirking coldly at her. "You—"_

"_Clarissa," Valentine said, his tone scolding. "What are you going to do about your little baby?"_

"_Jace and I…we ran away. We're safe."_

_Sebastian shook his head. "Not far away enough. And now look," he said, a smirk turning the corners of his lips up. "You couldn't run, even if you wanted to."_

_Clary looked down and watched in horror as her stomach swelled at an alarming rate, until it looked as if she could go into labor at any moment. _

_Valentine laughed coldly. "You've doomed your own child, Clarissa…that baby will never survive…"_

_Clary screamed as invisible hands wrapped themselves around her mouth, around her abdomen, around her legs. She writhed back and forth, yelling, screaming, kicking, punching—and then she was plunged into the darkness, a baby's helpless cries echoing in her ears._

* * *

Clary awoke with a gasp, her chest heaving in the darkness. _Oh God, _she thought. _Oh God, oh God, oh God._

The blood in her veins seemed to have turned to ice, freezing her entire body with terror. It was dark in the cellar—a darkness that threatened to consume her. A darkness that threatened to wrap its hands around her and drag her into its depths, just like her nightmare had. _What have I done?_

She slowly became conscious of Jace's arms gripping her own tightly, his golden eyes watching her with alarm. She saw where her own nails were digging into his skin, her eyes looking around wildly, her chest heaving with panic and fear. His lips were shaping words, but she couldn't understand them. Blood roared in her ears and her heart pounded furiously.

"—dream. It was a dream, Clary. Look at me." He swore softly. "Clary, _you were dreaming_."

She finally looked at him, tears stinging the backs of her eyes. "Dear God, Jace," she whispered, remembering her nightmare. "_What have we done?"_

Jace blinked, slowly realizing the impact the dream had on her current state of mind. He pulled her into his arms, holding her firmly. "We created new life," he said, stroking her hair soothingly. "We created new life, Clary, and we're not going to let someone else…get rid of that. I'm not going to let that happen. Magnus, Alec and I are all going to protect that baby, no matter what it takes." He pulled her back and locked his gaze onto hers. He held onto her more tightly as her breathing rate picked up, nearing hyperventilation as she the dream replayed itself in her mind, over and over and over. "If I have to dig a hole in the ground and build a house for us to live in there, that baby _will not die_. I promise. Okay?"

Clary flinched when he said 'die.' She nodded, her eyes squeezed shut, and he pulled her back into his arms, whispering nonsense into her ear.

She hoped, more than anything she had ever hoped in the world, that he was right.

* * *

_**TWO WEEKS LATER**_

Jace handed Clary a blanket, smirking at her. They were up out of the basement (they only slept down there), sitting in Magnus and Alec's living room while the other couple was in New York, moving the rest of Magnus's things from his old apartment. "You're lucky you got pregnant in the summer," he said, watching as she wrapped the quilt around her and her mug of tea tightly. "You get to spend the winter with your own heating system."

She narrowed her green eyes at him, a smirk playing on her lips. "How do you know so much about pregnancy all of a sudden?"

"I couldn't sleep one night, so Magnus took the opportunity to tell me every gory detail of the time he posed as a midwife in the 18th century," he replied with a shudder. "Apparently the woman he served lived alone and she was half blind. Thank the angel for that. Magnus in a dress?" Jace shook his head. "Probably would have scared the baby right out of her."

Clary laughed. "So you know more than me, now?"

Jace opened his mouth to reply with a snarky comment, but was interrupted by a sharp knock on the front door. He furrowed his brow. "What the...?" He glanced at the door. "I thought they weren't supposed to be back until tonight."

Clary looked as confused as he felt. "They're not…" she said slowly. "And they have a key…why would they need to knock?"

Jace glanced at the door again as the visitor knocked again, the previously polite tapping turning into a sharp, commanding rap.

He turned back to look at Clary, who had suddenly gone pale with realization. She caught his wrist. "Don't open it, Jace," she said, glancing at the hallway.

The knock came again, insistently. Jace didn't say anything. He pulled his wrist out of Clary's hand and crept silently to the door, leaning against it. The knocking turned into a pounding.

"Open up, Bane!"

Jace paled. Clary had followed him into the hallway, wearing nothing but a thin green nightgown that fell to her knees—her stomach had grown a little. There was a tiny spot where the bump poked against her nightgown. She looked as pale as he felt. "_The Inquisitor," _she whispered. "They found us…"

A scraping sound reached their ears, and Jace belatedly realized that the Inquisitor must have been drawing an Opening rune on the door.

"Go to the cellar, Clary," he said urgently, pushing her gently toward the door way.

Clary spun out of his grasp and pulled his stele from his pocket, grasping onto it tightly. "No," she said. "If they try anything, we'll fight them." She sounded confident, but her face was so pale it was almost grey.

Jace set his jaw. "I'm not letting them touch you, Clary. And it's kind of hard to protect you when you're throwing yourself into whatever situation we might be stuck in. Go to the cellar. Now."

"No!" she argued again, stepping away from him a little and holding onto his stele tighter, lest he try to take it back. "You never want me to fight, Jace. All the other times it's been somewhat understandable, but this is _my fight._ Okay?"

"Maybe I'm not protecting _you _this time, Clary," he said, his tone unyielding. They both glanced at the door as the Inquisitor added another Opening rune, trying to get past Magnus's wards. "Maybe I'm trying to protect our child. It might be inside of you, but it's still more vulnerable and unprotected than you are."

Clary stepped forward and set her hands on his shoulders, catching his gaze. His golden eyes seemed passive, but she could see the panic and alarm flickering behind them, like a small candle flame. "It's my child too," she said in a low voice. "We can protect her…or him…_together, _Jace."

With a resigned sigh, he turned away and strode to the door, flinging it open before the Inquisitor could complete the third rune. He leaned casually against the doorway, his arms folded, taking in the Inquisitor's surprised expression. "Good afternoon, Inquisitor," he drawled.

The Inquisitor got over his shock at seeing Jace quickly, becoming more furious every second. "Herondale," he growled. "You have broken the Law by hiding from the Clave."

Jace wasn't fazed. "And _you_ have broken the Law by trying to murder an innocent Shadowhunter."

"That thing," the Inquisitor said, pointing behind Jace at Clary. "Is not a Shadowhunter. It isn't a human. It is an embryo. It's not considered murder." He turned away from Jace for a moment. "Amelia, they're here!" he called. "Get over here now!"

Jace looked at Amelia's dejected form lazily, but his body was tense, ready to attack if needed. Clary had come up behind him. She ducked under his arm and stood directly under his chin, her knuckles white as she gripped the stele. "It's a human to us," she said firmly. "You have no right to touch me, or my child."

"Actually," the Inquisitor said. "I have every right." Quick as a flash, he grabbed Clary's arm and yanked her away from Jace, tearing a small yelp from her throat. The stele fell from her grasp as the Inquisitor's arm snaked around her neck, her hands grabbing at his wrist. Jace paled again, but he didn't move. The Inquisitor now had one arm wrapped around her neck and the other hand wrapped around her hair, making it impossible for her to escape. "The Consul writes the Law. I enforce it. The Consul has ordered me to have lovely little Amelia here carry out the procedure for an abortion on Clary."

Amelia swallowed, a trunk in her hands, and looked at the ground, turning red. Jace growled low in his throat. "You do know that if you do this, a good majority of the Shadowhunting world, and even some of the Downworld, will want your blood, right? Clary has Lucian Graymark and an entire pack of werewolves on her side, as well as Simon Lewis and the New York Vampire Clan. In addition we both have an innumerable amount of Shadowhunters on our side. We have the Lightwoods. We have Magnus Bane. Do this, and what's to keep them from thinking you'll do it to them, also?"

"You and Clary," the Inquisitor said, tightening his grip on Clary's neck and making her choke. "Are a special circumstance."

"Aren't we always?" Jace replied, another smirk on his lips.

The Inquisitor clenched his teeth and pulled at Clary's hair. She willed herself not to cry out, but she couldn't keep from wincing. He grinned. "The Clave does not fear Downworlders and ordinary Shadowhunters. The Clave can assure the rest of the Shadow world that no harm will come to them or their children—born or unborn."

"Ah," Jace said, detaching himself from the doorway and moving to stand in front of the Inquisitor, who was four inches shorter than him. "I thought you said that what is growing inside of Clary's…stomach…isn't a human. Shadowhunter children are human. But you just said that 'no harm will come to their children—born or _unborn._' Isn't that a little contradictory?"

* * *

The Inquisitor ignored him, glancing at Amelia. "Come, Amelia," he said, moving back to trace a binding rune on Clary's wrists. Clary winced again as she felt the fiery cuffs encircle her pale skin. She remembered when the previous Inquisitor, Jace's grandmother, had done the same to him. She remembered her shock at seeing his wrists after he'd been released from them. She couldn't bring herself to be concerned about her own skin, though. She felt too numb, too worried about what was growing innocently inside of her. The baby hadn't done anything yet. It hadn't said anything to offend the Clave. It hadn't done any harm to anyone. It hadn't even been born. It simply existed because she and Jace had put it there. Guilt welled up inside of her chest, threatening to suffocate her once more.

* * *

Jace watched as Amelia wrapped her free arm around Clary's shoulder, gently leading her away from him. Why wasn't Clary fighting back? This was her fight too, as she had stubbornly convinced him. He caught her gaze and his heart skipped a beat. _She's given up, _he thought, despair building up inside of him. _She thinks this is her fault._ With lightning speed, he knocked the Inquisitor to the ground, setting a seraph blade across his throat. Amelia cried out in surprise. She and Clary had not quite reached the door of the house, and they were both watching Jace—both with expressions of horror on their faces, although for very different reasons.

"Let Clary go," Jace snarled into the Inquisitor's face. "You're not touching her. You're not touching my son or daughter. You're going to get up, you're going to take the binding rune off of Clary, you're going to take the doctor back to the hospital, and you're going to leave us alone."

The Inquisitor just laughed. "Jonathan Christopher Herondale. You were bad enough when you were Valentine's son." He grinned coldly. "Hasn't anyone told you of the legacy of the Herondales? Their lives always end in tragedy. Your father died—ripped apart by a vampire clan before he even met his own son, causing his wife to commit suicide. Your ancestor, William? He fell in love with an immortal girl who was engaged to his parabatai. You're doomed, just like the rest of your bloodline. You'd be doing your son or daughter a favor by letting Amelia get rid of it."

Jace pressed the glowing seraph blade deeper into the Inquisitor's throat, drawing a small line of blood.

"Stop!" came Clary's ragged voice. "Stop, Jace. You're only making it worse."

"Stay out of this, Clarissa," he said, digging his knee into the Inquisitor's chest and causing his breath to become very shallow. "I'm not letting you give up."

"Jace," she said, pulling her shoulder away from Amelia's grasp and walking up behind him, her hands still bound behind her and her loose red hair blowing softly around her face in the breeze. "Look at me," she said quietly.

He turned, his seraph blade still holding the Inquisitor down, and looked into those emerald eyes that had so captivated him the first time he'd met her. Her expression was sad, but he could read the message behind it. _Trust me._ "I need you to do this," she said. "For me."

Jace hesitated. He had no idea what she was going to do now. Knowing Clary, it probably wasn't something he'd have thought of. It probably wasn't something any other Shadowhunter would have thought of. Clary's plans tended to be suicidal, even though they worked most of the time. He thought back to the day he'd told her he had Heavenly fire coursing through his veins. She'd told him that he had to trust her—that they had to work together. It was the only way their relationship was going to turn out right. The fire was gone now, but the trust had remained. She was right. Clary was his wife. He needed to trust her.

He leaned down, getting in the Inquisitor's face. "You're lucky. If I were operating on my own, you'd be dead by now." He heaved himself off of the Inquisitor.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: If you cannot handle blood, or an explicit description of an abortion procedure STOP READING NOW. This is your last warning. Do NOT report me for an inappropriate rating. I warned you. This is mature content, until the end.**

* * *

Clary wrapped the sheet around her naked body, watching Amelia clean a circular looking knife. She hoped desperately that the rune she'd taken to drawing on her hip every morning would work. Amelia looked at her sympathetically.

"I didn't want to do this. Inquisitor Ravenscar came barging into my—"

"I know," Clary said abruptly. "I'm not blaming you."

Amelia blinked in surprise. "You should know that your husband was right. Once word of this gets outside the Clave, people are going to be furious. My guess is there will be a revolt. A protest of sorts." She sighed. "It's not going to be pretty."

Clary could only nod. Despite the assurances of the rune she'd created, her heart was pounding in fear. Amelia sighed again.

"All right, Clary. What I'm going to do is called a Dilation and Curettage, or D&C abortion. In a D&C abortion, usually performed between seven and twelve weeks of pregnancy, the doctor inserts a curette, a loop-shaped steel knife, into the womb through the dilated cervix. As the curette scrapes the wall of the uterus, the baby is cut into pieces. Bleeding can be considerable. If you have any concerns later on, please come visit me. There is a possibility of infection, if the baby is not completely…out." Amelia looked like she wanted to throw up.

Clary almost did.

* * *

_It worked_, Clary thought with immense relief. _By the Angel…it worked. _

She curled up in the bed, the sheets bloody, and watched Amelia pack up her instruments, a bloody bag in her hands—a bloody bag filled with a minuscule blob of rubber, sculpted by Clary herself to resemble an embryo. Yes. She'd had a plan the entire time. A plan she didn't want to use, but a plan nonetheless.

Amelia looked at her sadly one more time. "I'm so, so sorry, Clary. I'm so sorry."

Clary pretended to blink tears from her eyes. She bit her lip and nodded. "Can you send Jace in here?" she asked, managing to make her voice crack.

Amelia nodded and left the room. Clary had about three seconds before Jace came running in, looking furious and wild-eyed. "_What _was _that_?" he practically screamed. His eyes widened as he took in the blood. "Clary," he said, his voice dropping down, almost to a whisper. "Clary…are you okay? Are you hurt? Did she injure you?"

Clary, still pretending to be sick, glanced over his shoulder. "Is the Inquisitor still here?" she asked in a small voice, curling up as if to protect her body.

Jace shook his head, pushing back the bloody blankets and wrapping his arms around her tightly. "He took Amelia back to Alicante."

Clary looked up at Jace, her posture relaxing. She could see his eyes filling with tears as he looked at the bed sheets and she felt a pressure inside her chest. "Jace," she said, her composure completely calm. "Jace stop crying," she said, wiping a tear from his eye.

He looked at her angrily. "Stop c_rying_?" He tried not to yell. "You just let that doctor kill our _baby_, and all you can do is tell me not to cry?" he asked incredulously.

She shook her head. "Our baby isn't dead. The procedure didn't work."

"But—the blood—"

"I know. Yes, that is my blood, but I'm not hurt. I've been putting a rune I created on my hip for the past two weeks. It prevents anything from happening to the baby—well, anything done by a human hand. It's a sort of…trick and protection rune."

Jace's expression hadn't changed. "But…what about the bag? What was in it if that wasn't…wasn't…"

"Rubber," Clary said. "I made it awhile ago. I snuck it in Amelia's bag when she wasn't looking. It looks pretty real, I think."

He didn't even smile. "So, the baby is still safely in here?" he asked, his hand moving up under the sheets and resting on Clary's stomach.

She nodded, smiling a little. Jace breathed a sigh of relief and wrapped her in his arms tightly. "By the Angel, Clary…"

* * *

**So! What did you think? Sound off in the reviews! If you want to know what the rune Clary created did, exactly, let me know and I'll PM you. It's...pretty gruesome. :3 Anyway. Keep reading and reviewing! And HAPPY 2013!**


	4. Growing Fast

**Guys, you're breaking my heart with your reviews! Just, uh…remember…this has a happy ending. Bittersweet, maybe…but happy nonetheless. This story is sort of modeled after something that happened to my dad's side of the family. Not the crazy government official trying to kill someone in my family, obviously, but something that will happen later. I'm trying to capture true-to-life circumstances for y'all.**

**Oh yeah. Sorry for not updating. I'll be updating regularly from now on, since I don't have any more finals! I passed 'em all, by the way, even my Trigonometry one! So look for a new chappie every Saturday or Sunday :)**

**So this chapter is basically fluff! :) Enjoy!**

* * *

Clary laughed as Magnus gave her a high-five, getting glitter all over her hand. "See?" he said, his black-painted lips stretching into a cocky smirk. "I told you it would work, darling Clarissa."

Jace frowned. "How come he knew about it and I didn't?"

"Because you would have ruined it," Clary replied frankly. "You wouldn't have gotten all defensive. You had to get all defensive, or it wouldn't have been believable."

Alec grinned at his parabatai. "It's okay, Jace," he said, his voice consoling and mocking at the same time. "We all have our talents. Acting isn't yours."

Jace just pulled Clary closer to him, making her laugh again.

"So," Alec said. "How, exactly, did you do it without getting caught?"

Clary took a deep breath. "Well…"

* * *

_Clary glanced at Jace's sleeping form on the floor of the basement, his arm draped around her pillow instead of her. She thanked the Angel he was a deep sleeper. She tiptoed up the stairs and slipped through the door, clicking it shut behind her and padding into the kitchen._

"_My dear Clarissa," spoke an amused voice. "You may be reckless, but you are entirely predictable."_

_Clary whirled and saw Magnus, sitting at the table with a cracked looking old mug cupped in his hands, steam rising from whatever was inside. He motioned for her to join him, so she did._

_Magnus looked at her hard. "What are you going to do about it?"_

_She looked up from the table, which she had been studiously examining, in surprise. "About what? About being reckless and predictable?"_

"_About the fact that the Clave is on a manhunt for you and Jace."_

_Clary swallowed and shrugged. "Hide, I guess." She paused, her green eyes roving restlessly over the cabinets, the sink, the counters. "You were right…" Her gaze rested on Magnus. "About me being reckless. The only plans I've come up with so far involve a risk factor that's too high. If I got hurt, or if the baby got hurt, we would have done all this for nothing."_

_Magnus was silent for a moment. "Have you ever thought of employing your power?"_

_She nodded. "Nothing's surfacing."_

"_How about your talent?"_

"_Artistry?" she laughed shortly, without humor. "I don't see how drawing or painting something is going to help this situation. It's not like I can just paint the baby into a canvas, like my mother did with the Mortal Cup. This is a living, breathing…well, not breathing, exactly…but it's a living human being. A living Shadowhunter. It needs nourishment and blood and oxygen and—"_

_Magnus held a hand up, surprisingly clean and well-kempt, for a warlock who so loved glitter and color. "What about a decoy?"_

"_A what?"_

"_A decoy. If the doctor ever comes, use a decoy."_

_Clary frowned. "And how, exactly, is that supposed to work?"_

_Magnus leaned forward, slipping his mug to the side. "Alexander can go into Alicante and buy some rubber…some peach colored rubber. Make a fake embryo, and if something happens…just pretend the rubber is the real baby."_

* * *

Finally, _Clary thought, biting her lip and tracing the new rune on the paper, letting it shimmer just as it shimmered in her mind. She sat back and looked at it critically. The image itself was deceiving, like its nature. Like its power. Glancing out the door into the deserted hallway, she pulled down the waistband of her shorts and traced the rune on her hip._

Let them come, _she thought. _Let them try.

* * *

"_Wait!" Clary cried, curling her legs up toward her body. "I want to do it on my own. It's my child. Let me…bury it…sort of."_

_Amelia nodded and put the instrument away, wiping it clean on a ragged-looking cloth. She turned away, cleaning up her station, trying to ignore Clary's heartbroken sobs. _

_Clary, however, thought she was doing an awful job of fake-crying. She couldn't even produce a single tear. She should have come up with a rune for that. Still sobbing loudly, she slid open the nightstand drawer on Magnus's side of the bed, pulling the rubber embryo (embedded with the Deception runes also) and cupped it in her hands, crying over it. Amelia finally turned around and walked over to Clary. "Come on," she said kindly. "Let me take it away and this will all be a memory."_

_Within five minutes, the fake embryo was in the bag, and the doctor was gone._

* * *

Jace peered in the master bedroom at Clary's sleeping form. The top drawer on his dresser was hanging open, a couple of his t-shirts spilling out. Her own jeans and sweater was discarded on the floor, and he could see one of his long sleeved shirts peeking out from between the blankets and her bright red hair. He smiled to himself as he picked up after her, throwing the dirty clothes in the hamper and immaculately folding the clean ones back in his drawer.

Changing into his own pajamas, he crawled in beside her, gathering her gently in his arms. Her stomach was growing at a very fast rate. But, then again, she was very thin. It made sense for the small swell on her lower abdomen to be more prominent than if she had a little more meat on her bones.

Clary growled unhappily in her sleep…or not.

Jace laughed as he watched her green eyes peel themselves open and glare at him. "Sorry," he said, grinning. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

She groaned and stretched in his arms, arching her back so that the bones in her spine popped. She sighed and turned her eyes back to him. "Why are you going to sleep?" she asked, her voice thick. "It's four in the afternoon."

"Is it so wrong for me to want to take a nap with my beloved wife?"

Her scowl became more fixed. "Don't call me that," she muttered.

Jace smirked. "Don't call you what? Wife?"

"I hate it when you call me that. It sounds weird."

"Wife."

"Jace…"

"What about wifey?"

"Oh dear God, that's even worse."

Jace's smirk widened, and he trailed his fingers along a small strip of her skin that had become exposed when she'd stretched, making her shudder. "Babe?"

She tensed and swatted his hand away. "Simon tried that once." She made a face. "So, no."

He moved his hands up her sides and began to trace patterns on the side of her exposed neck with his fingertips. "Clary."

Clary smiled and closed her eyes, her hands crossed protectively over her stomach. "There you go."

"Clarissa," he whispered, bending down to place a tiny kiss on the tip of her nose.

"Clarissa Adele."

He traced her jaw line with his lips, his eyes half shut.

"Clarissa Adele Herondale."

His lips brushed hers and then he pulled back, looking into her eyes. She closed hers and tilted her chin up ever so slightly, but that was enough of a prompting for Jace. He leaned back down and pressed his mouth to hers gently, but Clary deepened the kiss, wanting more.

* * *

Clary had Jace's navy thermal pulled up to the middle of her rib cage and the waistband of his sweat pants pulled down to just below her still-prominent hip bones, looking at her swollen stomach in the mirror with wide eyes. Was it normal to have a stomach this big in the third month? From the pictures of other women, she thought she looked like she was four or five months along. Maybe Jace was right. She _was _tiny. There wasn't much room in there for the baby to begin with.

Maybe she was just an abnormality. Who was she kidding? She'd been an abnormality her entire life.

She just hadn't known it.

She let the shirt fall back over her stomach and pulled her pants up, looking back at Jace. He was sprawled out on his stomach, his arms flung wide, his face smashed into the pillows, the thick blankets covering the lower half of his body. She smiled as her heart gave a little flutter. It was always nice to be able to see him like this—so vulnerable and so innocent-looking. He would be such a great father. He had his doubts, she knew. He'd confessed them to her one day, soon after she'd told him the news.

* * *

_They were lying on their couch, wrapped in blankets and staring at the ceiling. Jace had his arms slung around her middle, under her arms and Clary's head was resting in the crook of his shoulder._

"_What if I'm like Valentine?" Jace said quietly._

_Clary craned her neck back to look at him in surprise. "What?"_

"_What if I'm an awful father?"_

_She flipped over so that their stomachs were pressed together. "Jace," she said. "You're practically an angel. I don't see how you can possibly think that you'd be an awful father." She traced his jaw with the tips of her fingers. "You're nothing like Valentine was."_

_Jace looked doubtful. "He's the only father I ever knew."_

"_No, he's not. You had Robert Lightwood, who was more of a father than Valentine ever was. You'll be fine, Jace. I have faith in you."_

"_Will you help me?"_

* * *

"Clary?"

Jace's groggy voice broke her out of her reverie. He was sitting up, the covers drawn up to his neck, fisted in his scarred hands. He was watching her through slit eyes the sun slanting in through the blackout curtains and shining directly on his face.

"Morning," she said, walking over to the bed and sitting next to him.

He eyed her. "Why do you have clothes on? I was so enjoying the sight of you without them yesterday afternoon."

Clary felt herself blush and was glad for the darkness of the room, although Jace was smirking at her anyway. "They're comfortable?" she suggested with a shrug.

Jace wrapped his arms around her and pulled her down onto the bed so that they were lying pressed up against each other. "You look so much better without them, though," he whispered, making her shiver.

She wriggled out of his arms. "Remember when I told you that if you stuck with me, you'd be hearing 'I'm not in the mood' an awful lot?"

He nodded slowly, as if he knew what she was going to say next.

"Well, I'm not in the mood."

She rolled off the bed, effectively shattering the moment, and stalked off toward the bedroom door. "I'm starving and the baby's room needs working on."

Jace sat up, the blankets falling so that they lay low on his hips, revealing the V of his lower body. "But he's not going to be born for six or seven more months!"

"So?" Clary retorted, opening the door. "If I keep growing at this rate, I'm going to be too fat to work on _her _room."

Jace rolled out of bed and Clary swallowed, fighting back the immediate prickling sensation the sight of his naked body gave her stomach. He didn't seem to notice her reaction as he walked to his dresser, pulling out some clothes and tossing them on the mattress.

"I'll work on it, then, when you're 'too fat,'" he said, gathering his clothes in his arms.

Clary shook her head. "No way! It needs an artist's touch, and no offense, but you're not exactly an artist."

"Am too," he said, drawing himself up to his full height. "Last night, when I—"

"By the Angel," Clary muttered, interrupting him.

His eyebrows rose and he smirked. "_That, _my dearest Clarissa, was art."

"Go take your shower," she replied poisonously. "I'm going to make myself food."

The last thing she heard before slamming the door was his infuriating laugh.

* * *

"I really think we should name him Jace," Jace said. "If it's a boy. Which it will be."

Clary scowled at him over her plate of bacon and sausage and maple syrup. Cravings were really weird. "No," she said. "Can you please take this seriously? For once?"

He sighed and pushed away his own empty plate, picking at a piece of lint on his otherwise clean black tshirt. "Alright, fine."

"Thank you." She drew out a pad of paper and drew a line down the middle of it, creating two columns. At the top of the right hand one, she wrote 'Boys' Names' and at the top of the left-hand one, she wrote 'Girls' Names'. "All right," she said, sucking the syrup off of a piece of bacon. "Let's start with boys' names. And no, we're not naming him Jace."

"Jonathan?" Jace suggested. "I'm being dead serious. In the Shadowhunter world, we like to keep names in the family."

She paused. "Doesn't Jonathan remind you of Sebastian, though?"

He pursed his lips. "Yes… But in a way, don't you think we should commemorate him? I mean, he was still part human. Not much, but… I think he would have been a great brother for you if Valentine hadn't ruined him."

Clary bit her lip. "So you're saying we should name our son Jonathan to give him the chance to become what Sebastian wasn't? Or what he could have been?"

Jace nodded. Clary wrote 'Jonathan' at the top of the list.

Within the next fifteen minutes, Stephen, William, Christopher, Edmund (Jace didn't like it. It reminded him of an old man. Clary, however, adored the name, because it reminded her of The Chronicles of Narnia. "Another wonderful mundane book series," she sighed, seeing Jace's puzzled expression), Scott, Christopher, and Alexander had been added to the list.

"What about Max?" Clary asked quietly, chewing on the end of her pencil. Her plate had been cleaned off completely and Jace was in the process of rinsing the dishes off in the sink.

At her suggestion, he turned off the water and stood very still, staring out the window and gripping the granite ledge.

"Max," he whispered. The pain in his voice was palpable.

She joined him at the sink, touching his arm comfortingly. His knuckles were white where he gripped the counter top, the thin, spidery scars blending in with his skin. "If it's too painful, we don't have to name him that. It was just a stupid idea."

Jace turned to her, his eyes wide. "No," he said. "No, it's a great idea. Let's name him Max."

Clary blinked. "You want to officially name him Max?"

Jace nodded. "Max William Herondale."

* * *

"So, if it's a boy, we're naming him Max William, and if it's a girl, we're naming her Eloisse Charlotte," Clary told her mom as they painted white, fluffy clouds on the pale green ceiling of the nursery together.

Jace had said absolutely, one hundred percent 'no' to the ducks. So, Jocelyn and Clary had had to paint over the cheery yellow ducks with greens and browns, giving the room a cool, forest-y feeling.

Jocelyn smiled at her daughter, wiping some paint off on her overalls. "I had an ancestor with the name Charlotte. Wonderful woman," she said.

Clary nodded. "I know," she said. "Jace and I went to the Silent City archives and convinced Brother Zachariah to tell us about her." She frowned. "We still haven't figured out why he knows so much about the Herondales."

Jocelyn shrugged, climbing down from the ladder. "Who knows?"

Clary climbed down from her own ladder and folded it up, looking around her happily. Tangling vines climbed around the tops of the walls in a sort of leafy border, the painted forests stretching back for what looked like miles. The clouds looked picturesque over it all, and runes decorated each corner of the room. "It looks awesome," Clary said finally, admiring their handiwork. "I can't wait for the furniture to come in."

Jocelyn picked up an empty paint can full of used brushes and kissed the top of her daughter's head. "Will you please take it easy now?"

"Yes, Mom," she groaned in a teenager-ish way, flashing her mother a joking grin as Jocelyn left the room.

She moved to take the ladders down, letting them rest in her arms. Her Shadowhunter strength was really remarkable, she realized, as she picked the ladders up with ease.

"Oh, no you don't," came a masculine voice. The ladders were taken out of her hands abruptly, and Clary looked up in surprise to see Jace hoisting them over his shoulders. "No heavy lifting." He wagged a finger at her and she scowled.

"I can lift them myself, Jace. I'm not a weakling."

"We know you're not, honey," Jocelyn said, coming back into the room and beginning to peel the paint-splattered canvas away from the cherry-wood flooring. "But the baby is. It doesn't even have a skeleton right now. It's all cartilage, and if you lift things that are too heavy, it could really hurt the baby."

Clary folded her arms and huffed. "How annoying."

Jace laughed.

* * *

**All right, so a fluffy chapter! So sorry for taking so long to update, my loves. I, uh…had finals and auditions and stuff like that. BUT HEY. You should all check out my blog on tumblr. The url is hearttorntessa. And you should watch my City of Bones Book Review, which is also posted on my blog. There's also a lot more of my writing on my blog so…check it out and stay tuned for the next chapter! Review!**


	5. A Fist in the Windpipe

**Quick AN: YES. Adele is really Clary's middle name. I didn't make that one up. Ask Cassie herself…magnificent woman, you. SHAME ON YOU FOR SHATTERING MY HEART. Now I have to take my pain out on all these people. Oh yeah. The characters may be a little OOC. I'm kind of sick, so my brain isn't working at 100%.**

**ALSO NOTE: The baby was conceived at the end of July, beginning of August. (So the baby SHOULD be born in April…)**

* * *

_Jonathan Christopher Herondale:_

_The Clave requests the presence of you and your wife Clarissa Adele Herondale b. Morgenstern at the signing of the Accords on the 27__th__ of December. Your presence is mandatory. Failure to appear will result in imprisonment, fine, or the stripping of your Marks._

_~Consul, Council, Clave and Covenant_

Jace grimaced, crumpling up the note in frustration and throwing it into the trash. How were they supposed to keep Clary's pregnancy a secret if they had to appear at an event in Alicante at which nearly every Shadowhunter in the world would attend? She had a very definitive bulge now, one that seemed so large that Jace had begun worrying over her constantly. Although, he'd never let her know that he was worried. She'd probably slap him and tell him that she was the one who was supposed to be worrying, not him.

"What was that?"

Jace turned around, Clary's voice breaking him out of his thoughts. She was standing in the archway that opened up into the kitchen, wearing an enormous t-shirt and a pair of maternity shorts. Her hair hung heavy, thick and long over her shoulders, cascading down her back in dripping wet curls. She held a towel in her small hands and was watching him curiously. Despite the awkward bulge that they had to work around whenever they were intimate, he thought she was more beautiful than ever. In fact, he thought that her little baby bump made her even more beautiful. It really was astounding to him that she was carrying something that they'd created together, as a married couple, in her stomach.

"A call to Alicante from the Clave," he said, moving towards her. "For both of us."

Clary turned pale as he neared her. "Both of us?" she repeated.

Jace nodded. Clary bit her lip. "But I—"

"I know," he said, cutting her off and putting his hand on top of her belly tenderly and reflexively. His child was in there. His _child. His _child. It was as if he could somehow make some electrical connection with the tiny little baby hiding in safety and warmth under all that skin and insulation, let it know that it was loved and anticipated. The pull he felt to his own child both scared and excited him. Was that normal? He was terrified that he could feel this connected to a human being that wasn't Clary, and that the human being he felt pulled to wasn't any bigger than a banana (or so Magnus had said). "I think you're too far along," he said finally. "I don't think they'd do anything to you. Especially not in front of the entire Shadow World." He grinned and looked into her wide green eyes. "They'd have a riot on their hands. We're loved too much."

Clary's expression quickly changed from one of doubt and slight fear to one of contempt and disapproval…and maybe even a little bit of amusement. "Do you have a sewing pin on you, by any chance?" she queried, folding her hands behind her back and pushing herself up on her toes.

Jace frowned. "No…Why would I-?"

"I was just looking for something to pop your enormous head with," she replied, a grin slowly spreading across her face.

* * *

Isabelle glanced skeptically around the room. Would it be clean enough for Jace?

Wait a minute. Why did she care what Jace thought? The real question was:

Would Clary be comfortable enough?

There was a large, fluffy bed in the middle of the room, piled high with black and gold embroidered pillows and blankets. Windows were cracked open, letting the freezing December air in. Isabelle shivered a little. Damn Clary and her hormones.

There was a fire crackling and snapping in a large brick hearth, a small table and two chairs facing the roaring flames. Two porcelain mugs had been set on the table, steam rising from them…or rather, from the tea inside of them. Thick white carpet kept Isabelle's footsteps soft and silent as she inspected the room for any dust or smudges that Jace would give her a hard time about. He'd sent her a fire message asking her to fix the Herondale house in Alicante up for him and Clary. The meeting in Alicante was mandatory for all Shadowhunters.

A knock sounded on the door and Isabelle whirled around, a rag in one hand, a bottle of cleaner in the other. Simon pushed the door open, giving her a sort of half grin. Isabelle wished he'd just get up the guts and ask her to marry him. She would say yes. They were in their twenties now, and he was skirting the issue. She knew why. The immortality thing was hard to swallow…but not impossible.

"You done yet?" he asked, wrapping his arms around her back and resting his chin on her shoulder. "Clary messaged me to tell me that they made it safely to the city."

Isabelle wriggled out of his grip. "Good," she said with a sigh. "All there's left to do is wait, I guess."

They went down the stairs together, hand in hand, and sat on the plush, tapestry covered couches. There were blankets with herons embroidered tastefully into them. The room was a scarlet color of red, with black, hand-made paintings decorating the walls. A large glass coffee table sat in the middle of the two couches. They sat on one of the couches together, Isabelle leaning her head on his shoulder, Simon stroking her shoulder with his thumb.

"Which room are we staying in?" he asked curiously.

Isabelle glanced up the stairs with a wry expression. "The one right next to them."

Simon made a face. "Seriously?"

Isabelle sank into the pillows, waving her hand in the air. "Jace said it was that room or nothing." She glanced at Simon. "I think he's paying us back for the time we told him that Clary decided that you'd be a better father than him, so she ran away with you."

Simon grinned. "The look on Jace's face…" he reminisced.

"Was priceless," a new voice added.

Simon and Isabelle turned to see Clary grinning at them from the doorway of the living room, a small suitcase in her hand. Simon jumped up immediately and took the bag for her. "You shouldn't have to carry that," he said. "You could have asked for help, you know."

"See?" Jace said to Clary, joining them inside, the rest of the luggage slung around his arms. "Even the vampire understands." He turned to Simon. "I tried to carry everything, but she wouldn't let me."

Clary rolled her eyes, flopping down onto the couch next to Isabelle and folding her arms. "I'm pregnant, not an invalid," she muttered.

Jace waved his hand, setting the luggage down. "Same thing."

Isabelle scowled at him. "If and when I get pregnant, are you going to molly-coddle me too?"

Jace smirked at her. "Of course not. We'll spar in the training room when _you're _pregnant."

* * *

Clary grimaced in the mirror. There was no way to hide it. She was definitely, obviously pregnant. Even with the enormous robe wrapped around her body, the bulge in her stomach was too large to go unnoticed. She blew a huff of air through her teeth and got dressed in the official Accords robes that all Shadowhunters were required to wear, the soft, sheer material draping over her stomach like a breezy curtain.

She felt so exposed, so vulnerable, and she didn't like it. She didn't like the idea that people would be staring at her. No doubt people had heard about the supposed abortion. The Inquisitor and the Consul would have been much too proud not to tell anyone about it. Plus, Alec had said that he often overheard people talking about the whole ordeal whenever they saw him, because they knew that Jace was his parabatai.

"You ready?"

Clary turned to see Jace watching her from the doorway, an odd expression on his face. She calmed down a bit at the sight of him. He always managed to do that. No matter what situation they were in, he was always able to calm her down, to make her feel safe. She was untouchable as long as he was around, protecting her. She'd never admit to him that she liked feeling protected. She suspected that, deep down, every girl liked to feel protected, to feel cared for. No matter how independent and self-sufficient they were.

Clary nodded, tying off the ribbon on her robes. "As ready as I'll ever be."

* * *

The Inquisitor sat next to the Consul on the dais, observing the rows and rows of Shadowhunters, all dressed exactly alike, with a mixture of pride and contempt. Contempt for those who managed to undermine their rule, pride because of the titles they held.

"Any news of the Herondales?" Consul Nightwine asked, searching the sea of faces for the likely distraught features of Jace and Clary.

Inquisitor Ravenscar shook his head. "They've been silent since the procedure," he said, his mouth curling into a smile.

"Good."

* * *

Clary clutched Jace's arm as they entered the newly constructed Gard. The high wooden beams arched up like the inside of a church, and the voices of hundreds of Shadowhunters bounced off the walls. She'd been right about the staring. Many people were giving her and Jace poorly disguised looks of incredulity. She felt like screaming, _Yes, I'm pregnant! Get over it! _But she couldn't do that. She'd just attract more attention, possibly even the attention of the Inquisitor and the Consul. And that would be very bad. Very bad, indeed.

As much as Jace had told her that the Clave wouldn't do anything to her because the baby was too far along, they'd still agreed to avoid the heads of the Council if at all possible. They wouldn't be able to escape punishment. They knew that and they didn't care. All they wanted was to have a child and raise that child in safety and love. Clary had even been tempted to do the same thing as her mother. She wanted to get up and run away, bringing Jace and her child along with her, before the Clave could track them down. She wanted to raise her child in a mundane world, safe from the prying eyes of the Shadowhunters, the fame the child was bound to gain because of who its parents were.

Jace led her silently to a bench in the back of the room, where she could lean up against a wall, holding her hand as they sat. Clary ducked her head, doing her best to ignore the consistent stares and whispers. They died down all of a sudden and Clary looked up to see Jace glaring at anyone who so much glanced at them. She elbowed him gently. "Don't glare at them," she said under her breath. "It'll only make them gossip more after we leave."

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Well, they're not looking anymore. It's just aggravating," he confided in her. "You'd have thought they never saw a pregnant woman before."

"At least not one whose child was rumored dead."

Jace grimaced and held her tighter.

* * *

Jace swore under his breath as he saw the Inquisitor heading their way. They'd managed to get through the entire day without being noticed, but now, now that the day was over and they were heading back to the house, they just had to run into the Inquisitor.

Clary tensed beside him. "Jace," she whispered. "It's both of them. They're both here."

Sure enough, Jace could see the Consul walking almost directly behind the Inquisitor…and they were walking straight at him. They hadn't seen Clary yet, he didn't think. He didn't slow his walking down. "You have to hide," he said through grit teeth.

"How? Where?"

Clary yelped a little, and Jace whirled to see that Isabelle had come up behind them and grabbed Clary's arm.

"There's no way in hell I'm going to let them get their filthy hands on my niece," Isabelle growled, tugging Clary off to the side.

Clary started to protest, but Jace just nodded at Isabelle and kept walking, only glancing back to notice that his wife and sister had utterly and completely disappeared from sight.

"Herondale!"

Just in the nick of time.

Jace turned to face the Inquisitor and the Consul, rearranging his features to display regret and sadness. "Yes, Inquisitor?" he said mildly, clasping his hands behind his back.

"How's the wife?"

Jace frowned. "She's at home, sick. She couldn't make it to the meetings today. I apologize for any inconvenience."

The Consul came up next to the Inquisitor. "Perhaps we should pay her a visit, wish her well."

"That won't be necessary," Jace replied, his heart beginning to pound. The Clave had access to any Shadowhunter home they wished, which meant that if they wanted to see Clary, they could see Clary. It wouldn't be easy to hide the secret then, unless they only saw her from the chest up. "She has been refusing to see anyone excepting me these past couple of months."

The Inquisitor's face lit up. "What a pity. I trust she was not permanently harmed?"

Anger welled up in Jace's chest. His hands curled into fists, and all he wanted to do was punch both of them. But he knew they were trying to get a rise out of him. He knew what they were doing and there was no way he was going to fall for it. He clenched his jaw. "I dearly hope not. If such damage was done to my wife, it would not bode well for the Clave, am I correct? I trust this whole ordeal has been kept under wraps?"

The Consul glanced at the Inquisitor. "As far as either of us know. We haven't heard anyone speak of it."

Jace raised his eyebrows. "Oh? Is that why I've been suffering pitiful glances and jeering whispers all day? You're quite sure you've told no one? Spilling the secrets of the Council is punishable by death, as I'm sure you're aware."

Another meaningful glance passed between the Inquisitor and the Consul. Jace pressed his advantage.

"Did you even ask the Council for permission before you decided to go ahead and kill my child before it even had the chance to live?"

They were attracting stares now, and Jace noticed that some people had stopped along the walls of the hallway and were trying to discreetly eavesdrop. Good. The more eyes and ears he had, the better his case would be.

"You're getting yourself in deep, boy," the Inquisitor snarled. "One more word from you—one more word—and you'll find yourself regretting that you were ever born."

Jace smirked, his arms folded under his robes. "Dickhead."

The expressions on their faces were priceless, in Jace's opinion: pure shock and incredulity. The Inquisitor launched himself at Jace—which was a very stupid decision. A crowd began to gather in a sort of circle, watching them fight with wide eyes. Jace side-stepped the Inquisitor, letting him fall to the ground.

"Do you really want to fight me?" Jace jeered, his arms folded. "Do you think that's the smartest decision you've ever made?"

He grunted in surprise as someone—the Consul—tackled him to the ground from behind. Jace rolled out from under the impossibly heavy body, wondering how this guy could ever have been an active Shadowhunter, and stepped away. "If you try to attack me again," he said, his hands put up in the universal surrender sign. "I'm going to fight back. This is your warning."

He wanted to fight back. He wanted to, but he couldn't. It would only make things harder on Clary, and she was going through enough crap as it was. The Inquisitor, who'd heaved himself off the floor, had other ideas. Jace stood stock still as the man came up to him, fists raised.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you," another voice said.

Jace turned to see Alec standing next to him, and smiled. Alec didn't even glance at Jace. He grimaced.

"He told you that if you attacked him, he would fight back. Just leave him alone, he didn't do anything to you."

The Consul got up off the floor. "Didn't do anything? He disobeyed Clave law!"

Jace clenched his teeth. "Since when is it against the Law to have children? Why isn't it against the Law for Valentine to do to Clary and I what he did? Why isn't it against the Law to kill rogue Downworlders instead of trying to help and facilitate them? Why isn't it—"

"None of them pose a threat to us!" the Consul sneered.

Alec's eyes widened. "Clary and Jace's children would cause a threat to you? If anything, wouldn't you want to utilize their power for the Clave?" He noticed Jace's expression. "Not that Jace would ever let you do that, anyway."

"We can't have them creating a little super army. They'd break from the Clave and run things their own way because they would have that power."

Jace laughed incredulously. "A super army? That's what you're afraid of?" He ran his hands through his hair. "That's the stupidest idea I've ever heard of. All Clary and I wanted to do was live together and raise our children to be good, _law-abiding _Shadowhunters to aid the Clave and make it better as a whole. The only thing you're proving by killing our children is Valentine's theory. You _are _corrupt."

The Inquisitor swung his fist and Jace moved immediately to block it, grabbing his fist in midair and wrenching his arm to the side, effectively snapping it at the elbow. The Inquisitor cried out and fell just as the Consul launched himself at Jace. Jace ducked, but not quick enough. He was sent sprawling to the floor, the Consul punching him in the jaw and then in the ear. He heard the Consul cry out as he was suddenly lifted off of him, and Jace was up like a flash. Isabelle stood over the Consul, her whip wrapped around his ankle. Alec had the Inquisitor pinned down with his arms, and a large crowd had gathered around them.

"Let go of them!" a familiar voice shouted.

Clary pushed her way through the throngs of people, her red hair flying about her. She stepped into the circle where Jace, Isabelle, Alec, the Consul and the Inquisitor were, her hands clenched into tiny fists at her side, her face pale. Jace's heart sank. Why? Why did she always have to disobey? Why did she never do what she was told?

Clary looked at him, her eyes on fire. "Let them go, Jace. You're only making the situation worse."

"What are you doing here, Clarissa?" he asked, his voice dangerously low.

"Getting your ass out of even more trouble," she bit back.

"I can handle this on my own."

"Obviously not," she said, gesturing to Isabelle and Alec, who were watching the two of them with wide eyes. "This isn't you," she said, stepping closer. "This isn't you, Jace. This is Valentine. You're acting like Valentine."

Jace felt as if he'd been slapped in the face. "How so?"

Clary put her hands on his arms, as if bracing herself, but he knew she wasn't. He knew she was doing it to steady him. To calm him down.

"You told them you didn't want to fight, but I know you Jace. I know you want to fight. Valentine did the same thing. He walked around with that air of 'I don't want to do this, but I must.' Why don't you just come out and tell them you want to fight? Tell them you want to fight everything they say with every fiber of your being. Tell them that you think that what they're doing is wrong. Change things, Jace. Don't tear everything apart mindlessly."

Sighing, he pulled Clary into his arms, and nodded at Alec and Isabelle, who hesitantly got off the two Clave leaders. Isabelle leaned down in the Consul's face. "She may have told Jace not to hurt you," she sneered. "But she didn't tell me." Isabelle punched his nose, breaking it, and then got up and walked away as if nothing had happened.

"You," the Consul said, getting to his feet and holding his hand over his bleeding nose. He glared at Clary. "I saw your stomach. You're pregnant again, bitch."

Clary swallowed and Jace held her tighter. "No," she said quietly. "The abortion didn't work. I tricked Amelia," she admitted.

"How the-?"

"I created a rune. I created a rune and a fake…a fake embryo. I'm sorry. I had to do it. There was no way in hell I was letting you invade my body and kill my child," she practically growled.

The Clave leaders stared at them incredulously, mouths agape. Jace began to lead Clary away. "Now if you'll excuse us," he said. "We're going to go home. I'd say it was nice to see you all again…but it wasn't. So goodbye."

He could feel Clary trembling in his arms as he led her to the stairway. "Don't worry about them," he said to her under his breath as Alec and Isabelle caught up to them. "Just ignore them."

Clary nodded and pulled away from him to talk to Isabelle. But instead of words, a scream was torn from her throat. Jace turned quickly to ask her what was wrong—but she wasn't there. The Inquisitor was standing in her place, his brow furrowed in anger, his arms extended before him. And Clary—

Jace watched helplessly as Clary tumbled down the stairwell, coming to a rest at the bottom, her body twisted at an unnatural angle.

* * *

**Just let it all out, my darlings. All of your frustration and anger and hurt. Just inbox me or leave a review. Send death threats, whatever. I told you this was going to be painful. This was actually very painful for me to write. It made me sad. STICK WITH ME THOUGH. IT HAS A HAPPY ENDING. YOU MAY SHED MANY TEARS, BUT IT HAS A HAPPY ENDING.**


	6. The Ninth Circle of Hell is Cold

**Wow. You guys got really upset! I'm really sorry, I'm just laughing right now, because y'all asked for an early update and…well…here it is. It's kinda short, I know.**

**Oh by the way…I didn't realize until today that you had to MODERATE Guest reviews…so who knows how many reviews this story actually has? It kind of pisses me off, tbh. Oh well. Keep reviewing! I took off the moderating thing. So your reviews will show up now! :)**

* * *

_Jace unfroze and sped down the stairs, hearing nothing but his own blood rushing in his ears. "Clary!" he screamed. His voice was ragged, broken._

_He knelt at the bottom of the stairs, filled with an unspeakable terror and pain and panic, like he'd never felt before. This was worse than his first encounter with Agramon, because this wasn't a hallucination, and he'd grown to love Clary so, so much more than he had when he was seventeen. _

_He pulled her gently into his arms, cradling her head and trying desperately to find a pulse. Nothing. He felt like he was drowning, choking. He couldn't breathe. "No…" he gasped. "No. No, no, no, no, no! Don't you dare leave me, Clary! Don't you dare!" He pressed his forehead to hers. "Damn it, Clary!"_

_There it was. The little flutter in her throat that meant blood was pumping through her veins, however weakly. He let out a noise that he didn't think was possible—a cross between a sigh of relief and a choked sob. He pulled her tightly to him. "Clary," he whispered. "Dear God, Clary."_

_He didn't know how long he knelt on the ground, holding onto Clary's broken, but alive, body. He didn't notice the crowd gathered around them. He didn't notice Isabelle and Alec trying to talk to him, kneeling on the ground with him. In fact, it took him what felt like hours to even hear Isabelle stand up and scream, "Go the hell away!" to the crowd, who quickly dispersed._

_Alec was the one who finally got through to him. "Come on, Jace," an urgency Jace had never heard him use before tingeing his voice. "We have to go to the hospital. She's not safe yet."_

_Jace rose without a word, Clary still in his arms, and headed toward the hospital._

_He'd never felt so numb, shocked and wounded in all his life._

* * *

"_She'll live," the doctor said, closing the door to the operating room._

_Jace stopped pacing and sat down, running his hands through his hair. "Thank God," he breathed._

_The doctor pressed his lips together in a thin line. "She's in a coma, though, and we don't know how long it could take for her to wake up. It could take weeks, it could take months. She could wake up in the next five seconds. We don't know. We've healed all her superficial injuries, like her broken limbs and the fracture to her skull with iratzes. But we think that the mental damage she's experienced could keep her under for quite some time."_

"_What about the baby?" Jace asked, digging his nails into his skin._

_The doctor fidgeted nervously. "Well, in these cases, it's always best to wait for—"_

_Jace shot up out of his seat, panic filling his entire being once more. "What about the baby?" he yelled._

* * *

The only thing Clary was aware of when she woke up was the intense pain in her lower abdomen, and the sense that something was kicking her from the inside. She vaguely remembered opening her mouth to tell Isabelle 'thank you,' for holding the Inquisitor down, and then being pushed from behind. She remembered tumbling down the stairs, hearing her own bones crack in her ears, her heart racing and her chest filling with fear. Everything seemed to happen slowly. An immediate terror had invaded her mind, terror that she could lose her child. After all of everyone's hard work, her child was going to die anyway.

And then all went black.

She shifted uncomfortably in her bed, her eyes seemingly glued shut. She peeled them open, wincing at the bright light in the hospital room. She looked around. Bright sunlight poured in, illuminating the heap of flowers at the foot of the bed.

"Clary?" came a voice.

Clary turned over slowly, locking eyes almost immediately with Jace. He looked awful. He had dark circles under his eyes, his skin looking stretched and tired. A cup of coffee stood on the table next to him, cold with neglect. He was sitting in a chair right next to her bed, and she smiled weakly at him. "Hello, Jace."

Jace breathed out. "By the Angel," he said. "Don't ever, ever scare me like that again."

She reached out and took his hand in hers, rubbing his knuckles gently with her thumb. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I should have stayed hidden, I know. But I don't regret coming out. I'm sorry that I scared you. But I'm not sorry I stopped your fight."

Jace looked very pale. "Clary…" His voice broke.

Before Jace could continue, however, the door cracked open and the doctor peeked his head in. "Ah," he said. "You're awake. May I have a word?"

Clary nodded and gripped Jace's hand tighter. She noticed that he'd turned so pale he almost looked gray—like something had sucked the life out of him completely. The doctor came and stood in front of her, a clipboard clasped in his hands, his face entirely motionless.

"You suffered a bad fall," he began. "You're very lucky to have survived, Clarissa. We managed to fix all of your physical injuries with some simple iratzes. However, I would not advise going out for a while, as you were in a coma for five days, and we have not yet been able to measure the emotional or mental trauma the fall could have provoked. And, of course, there is the matter of the baby…"

Clary's heart skipped a beat. Of course. The baby. She put a hand on her stomach. Other than the pain, nothing felt different. Was pain a bad sign? Pain had to be a bad sign. "Did...Is it alive?" she asked quietly, trying desperately to ignore the mournful expression on Jace's face.

The doctor pressed his lips together into a thin line. "Yes, and no," he said, finally.

Clary sat up quickly, ignoring the pain in her stomach. "What do you mean, 'yes and no'?" she asked, her voice low.

"You're carrying fraternal twins, Clarissa," the doctor explained. "A boy and a girl. Unfortunately, the girl did not survive. I'm very sorry. The boy is alive and well, however, but I'm afraid you'll have to carry the girl around until the boy is ready to be born. We can't safely remove the girl without killing the boy also."

Clary didn't hear the rest of what he said. She couldn't feel Jace's hand holding onto her own. She felt like she'd been dipped in a roaring, rushing, icy river.

Dead.

The girl was dead.

All Clary could think about was how everyone (herself included) had teased Jace about the baby being a girl. And they were right. And they were wrong. How was she supposed to feel about this? She had a baby. She had a baby boy who deserved to be loved just as much as his sister was. Is. The little girl was still loved, even if she would never see her parents.

Max and Eloisse.

With that thought pounding relentlessly in her mind, she became vaguely aware of Jace saying her name over and over again. _Jace. _How much pain was _he _in?

Clary didn't realize she'd been squeezing her eyes shut until she opened them, locking onto Jace's concerned, golden ones. He was gripping her hand and she gripped his just as tightly. "Jace," she whispered, her voice breaking. Tears stung the backs of her eyes. "Jace, she's dead. I'm never going to get to hold her."

She saw Jace swallow hard. He moved his hands up to cup the sides of her face. "I know," he whispered back, and she could hear how broken he was inside, how destroyed. "But we still have Max. We still have a little boy."

Darkness began to cloud Clary's vision. Was she passing out?

Jace gripped her face tighter. "Clary," he said. "Clary, look at me," he said with an edge.

She looked at him, trying her hardest to fight the darkness that was threatening to consume her entirely. "She's dead," she whispered again.

Jace wiped a tear off her cheek with his thumb. She didn't even realize she'd been crying. "But Max is alive, Clary," he said. "Max is alive. He's going to live this time, Clary, I promise. _I promise you, Max will live._"

Darkness.

* * *

**If you got through THAT chapter, you can get through anything. I promise. The story is basically uphill from here. REVIEW! :)**


	7. They Want You On Trial

**It's SPRING BREAK! Saturday was the last performance of my show! Hopefully I'll be able to update more this week! And then I'm continuing the hiatus until about the end of the school year, because of choir festivals and testing and things like that.**

**This is a depressing chapter… enjoy.**

* * *

_A cold laugh reverberated throughout the darkness, the sound waves bouncing off the shimmering black water at her feet. She was rooted to the spot. She could not move, could not turn and run from the slowly advancing waterline of the underground lake. Something about it seemed ominous to her, seemed to threaten her with its very existence._

"_Clarissa…"_

_Clary looked up from the water in alarm as her brother emerged from the shadows, flipping a dagger with the Morgenstern stars engraved into the hilt into the air and catching it again. There was a sickly sweet grin on his delicate features, and he seemed to be walking on the water, towards her. Her breathing rate sped up incredibly fast, until she was sure she would hyperventilate if he took one more step._

_He stopped in front of her, when he was so close that she could feel his breath on the back of her neck._

_It was like ice._

_She shivered and looked up at him, trying her hardest to arrange her features in the same sort of mask that Jace possessed, the impenetrable one. "What do you want, Sebastian?" she asked coolly._

"_I just want to hold my niece," he said, his voice like a coating of syrupy poison._

_ Clary choked on her own breath. "Eloisse…"_

"_Oh, she's not dead, dear sister," Sebastian said. "Not yet…"_

_Clary felt her mouth fly open in a silent scream as she felt her brother slide his knife into her abdomen. She looked down in horror, screaming and screaming, but she made no sound. Blood spilled over her stomach, running in rivers down her legs. Sebastian reached his hand into her stomach, and she felt a sharp, tugging sensation, almost as if something had been ripped inside of her. When her brother drew his hand out again, something small, no bigger than Clary's own fist, was in it. _

_She looked down and saw her stomach seal itself up, the pain magically gone. But when she looked back up at Sebastian, and what was in his hand, she saw a tiny little baby girl, her eyes closed, her skin pale._

_She had a tuft of coppery hair on her head, and her tiny lips were parted in what looked like sleep. One of her little hands had curled in, her body still in the fetal position. Her other hand looked as if she'd been holding onto something, maybe another's hand. Clary realized that this little girl must be her daughter, and that she must have been holding her brother, Max's, hand._

_Clary tried to reach out and take her daughter back from Sebastian, a noise finally escaping from the back of her throat, but she couldn't move an inch. Sebastian gave the little baby a light squeeze. "She's dead, sister. She's dead because of you."_

_Clary shook her head, trying to scream again, but to no avail. She watched helplessly as her brother walked back across the dark lake, taking her daughter with him. Finally, she found she could move, and she ran into the icy water, screaming at him. But he was gone, and all she could hear were the sudden cries of a newborn baby, heartbroken and wrenching through the night. She stopped trying to follow her daughter, instead letting the cold current pull her under._

_She waited to die._

* * *

Jace twirled the ends of Clary's crimson hair in between his fingers, shifting a bit so that her head rested in better spot on his lap—not right in his crotch. She'd been asleep for three hours, which was a lot longer than she'd been sleeping ever since she woke up out of her coma. Her short periods of rest were plagued by terrorizing dreams, some complete figments of her overactive imagination, and others visits into the past. She was trembling in his arms no, no doubt having some nightmare, and he wished with all his heart he could crawl inside her head and defend her from whatever was terrorizing her. He wished he could take the brunt of the dream and let her sleep.

She deserved peace and relaxation, of all people.

But she wasn't going to get any, not any time soon, and he knew that. Neither of them would. He and Clary had lost a child, a defenseless, innocent baby girl who'd never gotten to meet her mommy and daddy. She'd never gotten to be held. Never received the full force of the love her family had for her. Never been given a chance to grow up and become something wonderful, as she likely would have had the potential to.

And Jace couldn't help but feel it was his fault. He'd been given the chance to take Clary and make a run for it. They could have fled the country, gone somewhere else. But no. He'd subconsciously decided that his life as a Shadowhunter was more important than the life of his child. He hadn't been willing to risk being exiled, to risk abandoning being a Shadowhunter and living as a mundane…and his daughter was the price he'd had to pay.

And Clary. He'd convinced her it would be all right. She'd told him countless times that she wanted to leave…but he was overconfident. He was arrogant. No one would _dare _cross the great Jace Herondale, hero of both the Mortal War and the defeat of Jonathan Morgenstern.

How wrong he was.

Clary stirred in her sleep, murmuring, her brow furrowed. A heavy weight, like an iron blanket settled itself around Jace's heart, and he imagined that if one tapped upon it with a hammer, it would make a hollow pinging noise. It seemed too full and depressingly empty all at once. It was interesting how something that should be an occasion for such joy could be transformed into a time of unbelievable sorrow. And it happened within days.

As he pondered this, Clary suddenly went stiff and screamed, thrashing out wildly and almost hitting him in the face. Jace froze.

"No! Come back, you bastard! Bring her back!"

She sobbed, a heart-wrenching, utterly broken cry of pain and desperation, and the metal cage around Jace's heart fell away and he could feel it cracking into pieces. He gathered her in his arms and brought her up to his chest, bridal style, holding onto her tightly.

"No!" she sobbed, clenching Jace's arm and digging her nails into his skin. "No no no! Please…please, dear god, no…"

"Clary!" Jace whispered urgently, shaking her a little. She was going to wake up the entire hospital-not that he cared. If he couldn't jump into her dream and save her from whatever was haunting her and causing her pain, the least he could do was wake her from it. The least he could do, as her husband, was bring her back to reality, back to him, back to their son.

"Come back," she cried, her voice hitching. "Come back, please."

Jace shook her again. "Clary!"

With another half scream, half sob, her green eyes flew open, and she immediately struggled against Jace, still half-dreaming. She shoved her tiny palms into his chest, pushing him away with all her might, her short legs kicking wildly. He didn't mind so much. He'd have bruises later on, but...what were a few superficial bruises in comparison to the heartache he and Clary were both going through? If punching and kicking him made her feel better...who was he to deny her? Wasn't his job as her husband to comfort her?

"Clary, it's me! It's Jace!" he told her, gripping her more tightly.

Her sobs continued to bounce off the walls of the infirmary, ringing in Jace's ears, driving nails into his heart with every sound wave, until they subsided to whimpers, the fact that Clary was back in reality slowly dawning on her. She buried her face in his shirt, fisting the black material into her hands and clutching onto him as if her life depended on it.

"Jace…" she whimpered.

"I'm right here," he assured her, stroking her hair. "I'm not leaving you…or Max."

"…What have I done?"

He pulled her back out of his shirt and lifted her chin so he could make eye contact with her. "You didn't do anything," he said. "This was my fault." He winced at the pain in his own voice.

Clary blinked the tears out of her own eyes. "No, it's not," she said, her voice suddenly soft.

Jace tore his eyes away from her. "Yeah, it is. I was arrogant. I thought no one would dare touch us…we were heroes. We saved the Shadowhunters. We—"

"Jace," Clary said, her own voice still tinged with sorrow and fear, but considerably more calm. "That's the kind of thinking that got us into this. And when I say us, I mean _us._ I thought the same thing you did. I thought that you were right, maybe I was paranoid. I certainly didn't think I could treat our children the way my mother treated me. I thought over and over how betrayed I felt, how hurt I was when I found out that my mother had hidden me away from everything and taken away my memories, and I didn't want our child to feel the same way. But in that thinking, I overlooked the part where our child might not even exist to feel those things. It's not your fault. It's mine."

He was silent for a moment. "It was both of ours," he muttered bitterly.

* * *

A soft knock alerted Clary and Jace to someone's presence outside the door.

"Come in," Jace called, disentangling his hand from under Clary's papery hospital gown.

The couple nearly gasped aloud when Aline Penhallow darted into the room. They hadn't seen her since the conclusion of the war against Jonathan and his dark Shadowhunters, and the girl's dark eyes were heavy with a sort of sorrow that would never leave her.

"Aline," Jace said, getting up from the bed. "What are you doing here?"

Aline clicked the door shut behind her and looked at both of them with wide eyes. "I'm really sorry for interrupting your peace, but…the Clave wants to put you two on trial."

"What?" Clary exclaimed, bolting upright.

"They want to put _us_ on trial?" Jace echoed incredulously.

Aline nodded, clasping her hands behind her back. She looked disturbed about something—worried. Her eyes kept darting about the room distractedly, and her skin had taken a greyish color on to it. The girl sighed and pressed her lips together. "Ever since…ever since Helen…left…" she stopped talking, her eyes growing very wide, like she was trying to keep from crying. Jace and Clary remained silent. "Ever since she died…I've been a sort of….spy, in the Clave, for normal people like us." Aline laughed nervously. "Well…you guys aren't exactly what anyone would call normal, but who am I kidding? None of us are."

Clary frowned. "Aline, you don't have to—"

"No," she interrupted. "No, I do. I've found out lots of things by being the people's spy. For instance, did you know that Sebastian didn't kill my girlfriend?" Color had sprung back up into the dark-haired girl's cheeks, her skin growing redder and redder with each word uttered out of her mouth. "No, actually, the Consul killed Helen, because she had blackmail on him."

Clary and Jace looked at each other fleetingly. Jace took a step forward. "Aline…maybe you should talk to someone else about this. I'm afraid neither of us are in any condition to be giving advice on…revenge."

Aline smiled at him—a bitter, poisonous smile. "I'm telling you this because I have that blackmail. I have proof that the reason the Consul _and _the Inquisitor have been trying to oust members of the Shadowhunter race is personal. They're both bitter."

"About what?" Clary asked incredulously.

"Neither of them were admitted into the Circle. Anyway, they've both convinced the Clave that you two are in defiance of the Law, although how said law came into existence, none of them know. If you are brought on trial, and I give them evidence of the fact that they one, killed Helen because she had said blackmail, and two, that the reason they want to kill your children is because of their own personal reasons, then you get off scotch-free and I can demand retribution."

"But what are their own personal reasons for not wanting us to have children?" Jace asked, curiously. "I always thought it was some spat they had with Valentine."

"Well, there's that, and the fact that your biological father constantly made fun of the two of them. But the biggest reason is because they don't want the two of you creating your own more powerful race of Shadowhunters and taking over the Clave, thereby kicking them back into the mud…where they belong."

* * *

**Okay, so, short chapter, I know! Lots of information. Hopefully it wasn't too confusing! READ AND REVIEW MY DARLINGS. What did you think of Helen dying in the war? What do you think of their reasons for wanting to kill Clary and Jace's family tree? DO NOT SAY ANYTHING ABOUT CP2 I HAVE NOT READ IT YET.**


	8. Climbing the Mountain

***waves my fingers* Hey guys, how's it goin'?**

* * *

"Clary is _not_ well enough to go on trial. She just lost a child, and she needs to keep herself and the other child alive."

"I'm sorry, sir, but the Clave demands both your presence and hers at the trial. No exception. I don't make the rules, sir, but it _is _my job to enforce them. If I have to take you both there by force, I will."

"The Clave is inhuman, then."

A pause.

"Please deliver the message to your wife, sir."

"Don't you think she's dealt with _enough shi—_"

"_Mr. Herondale._ Do _not _forget your place. You may have more power than the average Shadowhunter, but you are not invincible, and you are still subject to the laws of the Accords and those written down in the Codex. You are not above the rest of us."

A sigh.

Another pregnant pause.

"How many days do we have until the trial?"

"You stand before the Council and the Brotherhood in three days."

"The _Brotherhood_? What the hell does the _Brotherhood _have to do with this?"

"You are not simply being charged with unlawfully impregnating your wife, Mr. Herondale. The Clave has decided it was also unlawful for Clarissa to bring you back from the dead."

"_Now_? They're just _now _deciding that what she did was wrong? I thought they dismissed it—"

"With a new Consul and a new Inquisitor, the Codex has been reviewed, and it's been decided that her case also needs reviewing. May I remind you, Mr. Herondale, this is not a democracy? We are not bound to the laws of America, we are bound to the laws of Idris. I'll be seeing you, Mr. Herondale."

Another stretch of silence, broken only by the sound of boots clicking on the tiles of the hospital floors as the messenger—whoever he was—walked away.

Clary sat up, shoving her starchy white pillows back against the wire bedframe, wincing a little when she pulled her arm too far away from the IV stuck into her skin. With a sigh, she leaned back into the pillows and drew the blankets up over her swollen stomach and around her shoulders.

The door opened and Jace walked in, dark circles shadowing his eyes, his cheeks hollow, his skin pale. Clary watched him in wonder, her brow furrowing.

"Have you been _sleeping_?" she asked. "At all? Ever?"

Jace looked up at her in surprise, as if he hadn't expected her to be awake. He took a deep breath, crossed the room, and sat in the chair at her bedside. He took her hand in his. "What did the doctor say?"

Clary grit her teeth. "Answer my question."

He avoided her eyes.

"_Dammit, _Jace! How am I supposed to be 'worrying about myself and the baby' if I have to worry about you, too? When was the last time you ate anything?"

"Yesterday. I had a little bit of leftover spaghetti that Simon was keeping hidden in the back of the fridge at the canal house."

Clary narrowed her eyes. "How much is a little bit?"

Jace just glanced at her.

She sighed and ran a hand through her hair in frustration. "Jace…I can't do this by myself…"

He squeezed her hand. "I know, I know. You don't have to; I'll be here the whole time."

She looked at him. "You've got to stop neglecting your own health. Skipping meals or sleep time isn't going to help me, and it isn't going to help M-Max. It's just going to destroy you. If you keep it up, you won't be _able _to be with me the whole time. You won't be able to help me."

Jace ran a hand through his hair. "I _know_. I can't eat, Clary. I can't sleep. I can't do anything but sit here in this stupid hospital room and wait until you can leave. I can't do anything but watch you sleep, or sit outside and wait for the doctors to examine you. I can't do anything but listen to the rumors about what the Consul wants to do to you—to us. To the baby. I'm a _soldier, _Clary. I want to fight. I want to protect you. I want to be able to do everything in my power to make sure that you're safe, and that Max is safe, and I _can't fail again. _I can't fail _him_ again, Clary, but I can't do anything but wait. And it's _killing _me."

Clary lifted her free hand and pressed it against his cheek. "I know," she said quietly. "Sometimes, waiting is what makes us stronger. I know it's hard, and I don't want to wait either, but we don't really have a choice."

He smiled weakly. "We always have choices, dear Clarissa."

"Go get something to eat, please. Then I'll tell you how the examination went. Okay?"

Jace sighed dejectedly and released her hand, standing up. "Okay."

* * *

Jace returned ten minutes later with a container of noodles and some kind of gravy, and a thermos filled with water. He sat back down next to Clary, who had opened her eyes when he opened the door.

"That was fast," she remarked, sitting up.

"I snuck into the kitchen downstairs in the dining hall," he said with a shrug, popping the lid off the container and sniffing it hesitantly. He shrugged again and took a bite. "So how did it go?"

"Finish eating first."

Jace's expression hardened slightly. "No. I will eat it, and you need to trust me when I promise you that. You told me that once I got something to eat, you would tell me how the doctor' appointment went. Now you need to hold up your end of the deal."

Clary smiled a little. "Already taking on that bossy, fatherly tone, I see."

Jace looked taken aback. "I didn't mean—"

Clary held a hand up. "No, it's fine. I'll tell you. But can you please eat while I'm talking? I'm just—It'll just make me feel better."

Jace wordlessly shoved a forkful of noodles in his mouth and took a sip from the Thermos.

Clary sighed. "Basically, the doctor said that there's bruising on my lower abdomen, but that that will heal over time. It's…there's something…else he told me, a-and—" She took a deep, shuddering breath, fighting back the sudden threat of tears welling up in her eyes. She hated the raging hormones that took sudden control of her emotions and thoughts. She hated that the situation she was currently in would have made her a wreck _without _the hormones, and that her body had basically become a hormonal playground. She was so sick of it all. Sick of the crying when no one was in the room. Sick of feeling guilty. Sick of having a broken, shattered heart. Sick of knowing that Jace felt the same way and there was nothing either of them could do to fix each other.

Only time and Max would be able to do that.

She hadn't realized she'd actually started crying until she realized that Jace had put down his food, climbed onto the hospital bed and put her in his lap. He held onto her tightly and wiped her tears off her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. This only made her cry harder. She curled up in his arms, buried her face in his shirt, and began to sob brokenly. It had finally hit her. After two weeks, the fact that her baby girl died before she could even be held by her parents, seen by her parents, hit her, and Clary felt as if she'd suddenly been run over by a freight train.

Jace held her and rocked her gently until her sobs died down to whimpers, and the whimpers died down to the occasional hiccup of tears. Clary took another shuddering breath and wiped her eyes furiously. "I'm sorry," she said hoarsely. "I-I got your shirt wet."

Jace shook his head and wiped the rest of her tears away with the hem of his t-shirt. "Don't be sorry, Clary. It's good. You finally let it all out." He stroked her hair.

Clary leaned back against his chest. "The…doctor said that—that Eloisse was covering Max when I fell, s-so…she died protecting her brother…" She hiccupped. "If she hadn't been in that exact position…both of them would've…d-died."

Jace stiffened, but his hand didn't stop stroking her hair. He rested his free hand on the top of her stomach, his fingers splayed. "Then Eloisse died a hero," he said in a choked voice. "Before she was even born. She saved Max."

Clary adjusted her t-shirt uncomfortably, her palms sweating with nervousness. "What's the first trial for?" she whispered as she and Jace hurried down the hall of the new Gard, towards the room where their trials would be held before the Clave.

"I think they're reviewing your case first."

Clary's heart skipped a beat. With either case, she and Jace were at risk of being stripped of their Marks, and Clary had heard of how painful that was.

* * *

"_What do you think they'll do if they find you guilty?" Alec asked, his face paler than usual._

_Magnus glanced at his boyfriend and then back at Clary and Jace, who were sitting on the hospital bed together. "They'll probably strip you two of your Marks," he replied with a grimace._

_Jace stiffened next to Clary, his grip on her tightening. "It's painful."_

_Magnus nodded. "Excruciating." He focused on Jace. "An ancestor of yours had his Marks stripped."_

_Jace, Clary, and Alec all looked taken aback._

"_He did?"_

"_You knew Jace's ancestor?"_

"_Why?"_

_Magnus held a hand up. "Your ancestor, Edmund Herondale, fell in love with a mundane who didn't want to Ascend. So, he threw in the towel. He gave up being a Shadowhunter for her, married her, had three children."_

_Jace lifted his eyebrows. "So…how am I a Shadowhunter, then?"_

_Magnus turned pale and glanced at Alec before proceeding cautiously.. "Well…Edmund's son, William, had a bit of a…family crisis, and he ran away. Turned to the Shadowhunters of the London Institute for help. He married a girl he met there, and the Herondales have been Shadowhunters ever since."_

* * *

Clary fumbled for Jace's hand as they approached the door, and he squeezed hers. He turned and gave her an encouraging smile and a quick kiss before pushing the doors to the Gard Council Room open. Clary swallowed her nerves as she took in the sight of three hundred Shadowhunters, dressed in the black robes they were required to hold council in.

Clary and Jace were pulled away from each other and escorted to chairs in front of the large podium at which the Consul and the Inquisitor sat. The chairs were about 15 feet away from each other, though it felt like a fifty-foot chasm to Clary. She knotted her hands in her lap and glared up at Consul Nightwine as he laughed and joked with some of the other Shadowhunters, his injuries bandaged up in white pieces of gauze.

She glanced over at Jace, who had his head bowed and his eyes closed, and for a crazed moment, she thought he was praying. But then she saw his fists clenched in his lap and his jaw tight and not moving, and she realized that he was trying to calm himself down. A tiny flash of pain lanced through her chest and she wished she could get up from her chair and sit next to him and hold him and stroke his hair until he relaxed a little. She wished she could whisper that everything would turn out fine, that they had managed to escape consequences like this before, that they had managed to get themselves out of these kinds of situations before.

She sighed and rested a hand atop her stomach, frowning and looking away from Jace. She looked back up at the podium and saw a young man looking down at her, studying her. He was tall and thin, and he had black hair with a silver streak running through it. Something about him seemed familiar…

Her attention snapped back to the Consul as he cleared his throat, and so, she noticed, did Jace's.

"Ahem," he said, lifting his arms. "Let us begin."

The Shadowhunters in the room sat down, and Clary immediately felt 300 pairs of eyes trained on her and Jace. Whispers flurried through the room.

"_She's done it again."_

"_That's Valentine's daughter."_

"_Following in the footsteps of the family, I suppose."_

"_Aren't they brother and sister? Aren't they committing incest?"_

"_He died, you know. That's why we're here."_

"_Are they going to kill him?"_

Clary couldn't take any more. She stood up abruptly and slammed her hand down on the desk in front of her. "_By the Angel, _will you all _shut up_?" she yelled. The whispering came to a halt, and she could feel Jace's surprised eyes trained on her. "_Yes_, I'm Valentine's daughter! I thought we established that a decade ago! Will you _please _just get _over yourselves_?!"

The Consul looked amused as she sat down shakily, wishing she could bury her face in Jace's shirt. She glanced at him and he nodded, the left corner of his mouth hitched up into a grin.

The Consul cleared his throat. "Right, thank you, Clarissa, for your…public display of the similarities between you and your father."

Clary bit down on her tongue until she tasted blood to keep from screaming at him in anger.

"We are here," Consul Nightwine continued, cutting a glance at Jace. "Because Clarissa Herondale nee. Morgenstern, unlawfully used the Angel Raziel's power to bring Jonathan Herondale back from the dead, after he had been slain by Valentine Morgenstern."

A murmur ran through the crowd.

"May the defense rise, and make a case for herself?"

Clary rose slowly and glared at the Consul. "That night, on the lake, Valentine had acquired all three of the Mortal Instruments and intended to raise the Angel Raziel. When I got there, he was waiting, and he bound my hands and feet together and put a silencing rune on the back of my neck, so I was unable to do anything. He then talked to me about how much he hated me, and how much Jocelyn ruined his life, until Jace got there. Jace had killed Jonathan, my-my brother, and wanted to kill Valentine also, to stop him from raising the Angel. However, Valentine tricked Jace, and Jace ended up dying.

When Jace died, I realized that _I _had to keep him from raising the Angel. So, when he began the spell, I drew a rune I created in the dirt, and directed the Angel's power me, so it'd be in my favor. Because of this, the Angel killed Valentine and granted _me _a wish. He asked _me _what I wanted. He didn't ask me what the _Clave _wanted. He didn't ask me what the other _Shadowhunters _wanted. He didn't even ask me what _Jace _would have wanted. He asked me what _I _wanted, and I chose Jace."

The Inquisitor screwed his mouth up to the side. "As it is, however, Jonathan should not be alive. If it were not for your wish to bring Jonathan back to life, Jonathan Morgenstern would not have nearly razed Idris to the ground, killing thousands of innocent Shadowhunters. _That _is on your shoulders."

Clary was about to speak in defense when the man with the black hair and silver streak rose to his feet with surprising grace. Clary knew that all Shadowhunters were graceful (except for her, apparently), but this man moved with an ages-old grace that no one on earth seemed to emulate. He nodded at the Inquisitor. "If I may, Inquisitor?"

The Inquisitor looked at him with a guarded expression. "Who are you?"

"I am called James Carstairs, formerly of the Brotherhood."

"You can no longer represent the Brothers, I'm afraid, so—"

"I am not," James interrupted, "here on behalf of the Brotherhood. I am no longer of their ranks, but of the average Shadowhunter's. I am here on behalf of Jace's last living relative by blood."

The Inquisitor's eyebrows raised in surprise, as did Clary's. She glanced over at Jace, who seemed tense, his face pale, his golden eyes wary.

"And who might that be?" the Inquisitor queried.

James shook his head. "That is not for you to know or understand at the moment. What is important is that she is very powerful and has a strong pull with the Downworld. A word from her can turn each and every Downworlder against the Clave, even a good number of Shadowhunters. Jace and Clary's case has been resolved by the Brotherhood already, and it hardly needs to be reviewed again. The previous Consul and Inquisitor named them innocent, and it is unlawful for you to attempt to change their sentence to that of 'guilty.' Especially when the Clave has already granted both of you pardon, where you did not deserve it," he concluded pointedly.

The Consul swallowed and turned away from James. "The Council will decide on the verdict after a two day recess."

* * *

**Sorry if this chapter was boring guys. I promise, after the trials, we have some…exciting stuff. And what do you think of JEM BEING BACK?**

**REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW. The more you review, the sooner I update.**


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